OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

Of 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


DARLEV 


STRAY 

.3MICT 


"H 

•rOLD  'UN"AND  THE  "YOUNG  'UN'.' 

WITH  BKAUTilTL  UJ.USTRATIONS,. 

FROM  ORIGINAL  DESIGNS  BY  DARLEY 
PHILADELPHIA^ 

;B.PEI£RSGL1&BBD 


HANS  HOOPER,  THE   NORSK- IIItKAK  Kit. 1'<«J> 


I 
t 


v7  A 
/  //  i 

S  T  R  A  Y    8  II  B  J  E  C  T  S 

AHKKSTKJ)  AM)  BOUND  OVKU. 


'Take  him  ;i\v;iy,"  slmoke  1  the  Qnakor,  noiirly  fnii)(iiii«-  Avilh  paiu. — P<iye  59. 

1MII  \,  A  I)  KM' II  I  A: 
T.    J3.    IM^TIOIISON    &    BKO'l'HKHS. 


STRAY    SUBJECTS, 


ARRESTED  AND  BOUND  OVER: 


BEING   THE 


FUGITIVE    OFFSPRING 


OF    THE 


OLD  'UN"  AND  THE  "YOUNG  'UN/' 


THAT  HAVE  BEEN  « LYING  ROUND  LOOSE,"  AND  ARE  NOW 
"  TIED  UP"  FOR  FAST  KEEPING. 


WITH  EIGHT  ORIGINAL  ILLUSTRATIONS, 

FROM 

DESIGNS    BY     BARLEY. 


P  t)  1 1  a  &  e  I  p  1)  t  a : 

T.    B.    PETERSON    AND    BROTHEKS, 
806    CHESTNUTSTREET. 


Kntered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1848,  by 

CAREY    AND    HART, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  State*,  in  and  for  th* 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


COLLINS,  PRINTER. 


pr 


WILLIAM   T.   PORTER,    ESQ. 

KKTOR  Or  THE  NEW   YORK   SPIRIT  OF   THE   TIMES, 

THIS     VOLUME 

IS    RESPECTFULLY    INSCRIBED, 

Af    A    ILIUHT    TOKEN     OF    REGARD    AND    ESTIEM 
BT  Ut  FSHNM 

THE   AUTHORS. 


PREFACE. 


A  VOLUME  like  the  present,  a  mere  collection  of  "  un- 
considered  trifles/  would  seem  to  require  no  regular 
introduction ;  but,  as  a  preface  is  regarded  as  essential 
to  a  book,  we  can  but  follow  the  fashion  set  by  our 
illustrious  predecessors. 

The  sketches  which  follow  were  written  generally 
to  while  away  a  tedious  hour,  and  fill  nooks  and  corners 
in  the  newspaper  press,  unoccupied  by  worthier  matter 
The  greater  part  of  them  were  published  in  the  New 

•    IT 

York  "  Spirit  of  the  Times,"  and  the  circulation  they 
received  is  fairly  attributable,  less  to  their  intrinsic  merit, 
than  to  the  high  reputation  of  that  admirable  journal, 
in  which  our  lucubrations  have  been  preserved,  like 
flies  in  amber.  Some  of  the  articles  were  originally 
written  for  the  Philadelphia  "  Saturday  Courier,"  tht 


Vi  PREFACE. 

Boston  "  Daily  Times,"  the  "  Boston  Weekly  Symbol," 
the  "  Yankee  Blade,"  and  other  papers. 

Making  no  pretensions  to  literary  merit  (as  they 
were  penned  to  serve  a  temporary  purpose),  these 
sketches  are  now  thrown  out  as  a  "  forlorn  hope,"  rely 
ing  on  Darley's  "  pictures"  as  a  corps  de  reserve. 

FRANCIS  A.  DURIVAGE, 

alias  the  "  OLD  'UN." 
GEORGE  P.  BURNHAM, 

altos  the  "  YOUNG  'UN." 


CONTENTS. 


frUM 

HANS  HOPPER,  THE  HORSE-BREAKER       .  .19 

THE  FASTEST  FUNERAL  ON  RECORD            ...  29 
FAMILIAR  LECTURES  ON  SHAKSPERE, 

NO.  I.— MACBETH .33 

NO.  II.— OTHELLO! 37 

NO.  Ill— ROMEO  AND  JULIET 41 

ONE  WAY  TO  NULLIFY  A  BAD  LEASE           .           .  45 

SEEING  THE  STEAMER  OFF 47 

"  ZAT  IS  MY  TRUNK !» 50 

AN  AFTER-CLAP  TO  A  LAW-SUIT     .....  51 

PURCHASING  A  LIVE  LOBSTER              .  56 
A  PAIR  OF  PARODIES, 

ALICE  GREY 60 

HE  WORE  A  FLASHY  WAISTCOAT        ...  61 

HE  WANTED  TO  SEE  THE  ANIMAL             ....  62 

CONCERNING  CROWS  AND  CAPE  ANN  JOKERS     .           .  65 

THE  'LEVEN  STRIKE        , 69 

THE  « STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER"         ....  74 

THE  STEER  RIDE 77 

HOW  THE  WOLVERINE  DISCOVERED  A  LEAD  MINE— A  FACT  79 

A  YANKEE  ADMINISTRATOR 83 

THE  STEAMBOAT  CAPTAIN  WHO  WAS  AVERSE  TO  RACING  87 

\  WINDFALL  FOR  THE  'YOUNG  'UN'  92 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

A  TALE  OF  A  TURKEY        .  ....  98 

APPLYING  THE  PRINCIPLE 102 

LOVE  IN  THE  BOWERY 107 

DRIVING  A  PARSON  ASHORE  .  .  .  .109 

TIM  LINKS,  THE  SHOWMAN 114 

"  TOO  MUCH  ALIKE !» 120 

A  LIVE  YANKEE  "  SNORED"  OUT          .  .  .  .  124 

"WOBOT  BARWYMAW" 129 

A  GAME  AT  "SEVEN  UP" 134 

THE  YANKEE  WHO  HAD  NEVER  HEARD  A  GONG       .  .        J39 

ONE  WAY  TO  SHARPEN  'EM 142 

NEWSPAPER  ADVERTISEMENTS '147 

HOW  WE  SMOKED  HIM  OUT 151 

CROSSING  THE  ALLEGHANIES 158 

THE  MARCH  OF  SCIENCE    ....  .     -         159 

SELLING  "  JONAS"  AT  THE  TREMONT  HOUSE  .  .  .163 

BENEVOLENCE  REWARDED 165 

« DOING"  A  LANDLORD  ....  .171 

HOW  THE  YANKEE  MADE  A  QUARTER         .  .  174 

AN  AMATEUR  PRESIDENT  .        177 

A  MODEL  OYSTER  SHOP    ....  .179 

THE  GREAT  WESTERN  PIE-EATER  ....        182 

« SAWING"  AN  INSPECTOR 184 

MR.  FAULTY'S  FIRST  AND  LAST  CLUB  SUPPER          .  .        190 

HO\V  HE  SOLD  'EM     .  .  1M 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


HANS  HOPPER,  THE  HORSE-BREAKER  ....        Frontispiece. 

THE  QUAKER  AND  THE  LOBSTER Title  Page. 

THE  FASTEST  FUNERAL  ON  RECORD  ....     Page    25 

THE  CAPTAIN  WHO  WAS  AVERSE  TO  RACING     ...  90 

TIM  LINKS,  THE  SHOWMAN        .  117 

THE  TALL  YOUNG  MAN  OF  TWENTY 149 

BENEVOLENCE  REWARDED 169 

A  MODEL  OYSTER-SHOP  181 


HANS  HOPPER,  THE  HORSE-BREAKER. 


ON  the  good  old  island  of  Nassau,  not  many  leagues 
distant  from  the  ancient  city  of  New  York,  there  lies  a 
little  isolated  township,  which  is  perhaps  unchronicled 
on  any  map.  Its  houses  are  scattered  sparingly  upon 
the  southern  shore  of  the  island,  and  are  defended  from 
the  keen  sea-breezes  by  the  high  bluffs  that  encircle  the 
small  bay.  The  land  rises  with  a  gradual  swell  from  the 
sea-shore,  until  it  attains  a  somewhat  elevated  height, 
and  the  hills  which  oppose  their  brown  summits  to  the 
northern  blast,  are  clothed  with  stunted  forest-trees,  ap 
parently  of  great  antiquity,  and,  being  squat,  broad-bot 
tomed  and  rusty,  are  not  unlike  the  original  Dutch  set 
tlers  of  this  old-fashioned  place.  The  present  inhabitants 
partake  of  the  amphibious  character  of  their  township, 
being  alternately  fishermen  and  farmers,  and  equally 
expert  in  bringing  forth  the  treasures  of  the  sea  and  land. 
They  are  an  industrious  and  thriving  race,  cherishing 
immemorial  customs,  and  full  of  old-world  virtue  and 
morality.  I  must  except,  however,  from  this  eulogy  a 
certain  individual,  whose  history  forms  the  subject  of  the 
present  sketch. 

Hans  Hopper  was  the  only  son  of  one  of  the  most 
industrious  farmers  of  the  village  we  have  mentioned. 
The  old  gentleman  was  a  little  plodding  agriculturist, 
but  one  doomed  to  suffer  a  variety  of  ills.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  same  seasons  which  were  favourable  to  his  neigh- 


20  STB  AY    SUBJECTS. 

hours  always  brought  ill  luck  to  him.  He  was  grievously 
afflicted  with  the  murrain  among  his  cattle  and  the  blight 
among  his  corn ;  and  if  he  ever  had  a  crop  that  promised 
remarkably  well,  the  neighbours'  cows  were  sure  to  break 
into  the  field,  or  some  prodigious  hail-storm  to  arise, 
which  made  no  havock  on  adjacent  farms.  Then  he 
was  as  unsuccessful  in  his  fishing.  Although  his  nets 
were  formed  with  extraordinary  care,  the  shpd  seemed 
to  have  a  peculiar  faculty  of  getting  through  them,  or 
the  horseshoes  were  immeshed  in  amazing  numbers,  and 
broke  their  way  out,  to  the  infinite  discomfort  of  old 
Hopper.  Thus,  although  as  hard-working  a  man  as  any 
in  the  village,  he  was  doomed  to  suffer  continual  losses. 

The  villagers,  who,  like  the  people  of  most  country 
towns,  are  never  at  a  loss  to  account  for  similar  events, 
declared  that  the  old  gentleman's  ill  luck  was  attributa 
ble  to  prodigality  and  want  of  thrift  in  his  vixen  of  a 
wife  and  his  incorrigible  son.  In  truth,  the  youthful 
Hopper  did  not  promise  to  retrieve  the  fortunes  of  his 
family.  Being  an  only  son,  he  was  the  spoiled  darling 
of  father  and  mother,  and  inherited  the  faults  of  each. 
He  was  much  too  indolent  to  work,  but  when  engaged 
in  the  perpetration  of  any  mischief,  there  was  no  labour 
too  severe  for  him.  He  grew  up  the  terror  of  all  the 
good  housewives  in  the  village,  for  not  a  hen  could 
cackle  in  his  hearing  without  his  discovering  her  favour 
ite  retreat  and  securing  the  new-laid  treasure  in  all  its 
spotless  beauty. 

Unfortunately  for  the  villagers,  Hans  contrived  to  be 
on  good  terms  with  all  the  mastiffs  of  the  neighbourhood  ; 
not  a  dog  could  come  into  the  town  without  ackowledg- 
ing  the  charm  of  his  voice,  and  giving  him  a  tacit 
passport  to  all  the  treasures  thafche  guarded. "  Hans  was 


HANS  HOPPER,  THE  HORSE-BREAKER.       21 

a  famous  bird-charmer,  and  many  an  escaped  canary 
has  he  whistled  back  to  perch,  none  of  which  ever  re 
turned  to  its  original  master.  He  could  wile  away 
squirrels  from  their  autumnal  granaries,  and  call  in  the 
screaming  wild  fowl  from  the  ocean  ;  in  short,  he  seemed 
to  be  a  universal  favourite.  But  it  is  high  time  that  I 
should  attempt  some  description  of  the  hero  of  my  tale. 
He  was  short,  but  strongly  built,  with  square  shoulders, 
and  a  person  equally  adapted  for  feats  of  activity  and 
strength.  His  limbs  were  incessantly  in  motion,  and  it 
was  even  a  penance  for  him  to  sit  quietly  at  table. 
But  this  extreme  mobility  of  body  was  not  participated 
by  the  features  of  his  countenance.  These  remained 
ever  in  repose.  Sometimes,  indeed,  his  dull  blue  eyes 
would  light  up  with  the  smothered  fire  of  merriment  or 
anger,  but  in  general  it  was  a  bootless  task  to  search  his 
countenance  for  a  proof  of  what  was  passing  in  his 
mind.  Let  me  add  that  his  lips  were  thin,  his  nose 
sharp,  his  face  covered  with  light  freckles,  and  his  head 
with  wiry  reddish  hair,  and  you  will  have  as  complete 
an  idea  of  his  appearance  as  I  can  possibly  convey. 

Hans  had  no  sooner  attained  his  majority  than  his 
father  and  mother  died,  leaving  him  their  little  property, 
which  consisted  of  the  paternal  homestead  and  a  few 
hundreds  in  cash  at  interest.  He  now  began  to  think 
of  living  like  a  gentleman,  and  having  laid  down  a  few 
acres  to  oats,  he  purchased  a  fiery  young  colt,  and 
witched  the  village  with  his  noble  horsemanship.  I  have 
mentioned  that  he  possessed  a  wonderful  power  over 
animals,  and  horses  were  not  exempted  from  his  sway. 
The  secret  of  his  magic  was  unknown,  but  like  Cahir  na 
Cappul,  the  Irish  rapparee,  . 


22  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  He  had  but  to  whisper  a  word,  and  your  horse  would  trot  out 
of  his  stall." 

Every  one  has  heard  of  Jerry  Sullivan,  well  known  at 
Newmarket  and  Epsom,  and  on  the  Curragh  of  Kildare, 
who  was  a  famous  whisperer,  and  had  a  magic  word  by 
which  he  could  subdue  the  fiercest  horse  ;  but  I  take  it 
on  me  to  assert,  that  not  Jerry  Sullivan,  in  his  high  and 
palmy  days  of  equestrian  distinction,  could  exert  so 
powerful  an  influence  over  his  noble  steeds  as  did  the 
redoubtable  Hans  Hopper.  So  remarkable,  indeed, 
were  the  exploits  of  the  latter,  that  he  was  called  Dare- 
Devil  Hans ;  and  it  was  confidently  whispered  in  the 
cosey  coteries  that  assembled  under  the  patriarchal  roof 
of  mine  host  of  .the  Green  Flagon,  that  the  youthful  Hop 
per  was  more  than  a  match  for  the  Evil  One  himself. 
Hans  was  aware  of  the  distinction  he  had  gained,  and  to 
such  a  pitch  was  he  inflated  thereby,  that  I  verily  believe 
he  would  have  faced  a  cannon's  mouth  to  sustain  his  re 
putation — especially  if  the  deadly  engine  were  unloaded. 
Hans  had  something  of  a  travelled  reputation  too,  for 
he  had  more  than  once  passed  the  low  barrier  of  hills 
that  sheltered  the  village  on  one  side,  and  brought  news 
from  the  fair  regions  that  spread  in  boundless  luxuriance 
beyond  them.  Mounted  on  his  fiery  colt,  he  made  semi 
annual  excursions  to  Oyster-Bay,  and  once  crossed  the 
perilous  stream  of  the  East  River,  and  penetrated  to 
Bloomingdael,  an  exploit  which  is  yet  talked  of  by  the 
gossips  of  his  township.  In  pleasant  summer  weather 
he  would  trot  his  horse  upon  the  shining  beach  of  Coney- 
Island,  and  fairly  win  the  money  of  the  gentlemen  jockeys 
who  ran  their  steeds  against  him.  A  couple  of  months 
ne  devoted  to  the  ungrateful  task  of  tilling  his  paternal 


HANS  HOPPER,  THE  HORSE-BREAKER.       23 

acres ;  but  that  once  over,  he  idled  away  the  remaining 
portion  of  the  year.  He  was  lazy  enough  to  be  a  poet, 
but  his  exploits  in  literature  were  confined  to  the  perusal 
of  an  odd  volume  of  the  Turf  Register,  and  a  well- 
thumbed  copy  of  Degrafton's  Farriery. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  cash  his  father  left  him  dis 
appeared  ;  and,  forced  to  take  up  some  employment,  he 
became  a  jockey,  and  passed  his  time  in  breeding,  train 
ing,  swapping,  and  selling  horses.  He  was  a  constant 
attendant  at  the  Union  Course,  and  sometimes  came  off 
a  great  winner.  But  the  money  thus  acquired  was  al 
ways  spent  in  vulgar  dissipation — at  the  tavern  or  the 
cockpit ;  and  Dare-Devil  Hans,  with  all  his  magic  power 
over  horses,  had  much  ado  to  support  his  own  smart 
«  bit  of  blood." 

At  length  he  became  quite  desperate,  being  deprived 
of  the  means  of  keeping  up  a  figure,  and  revolved  the 
expediency  of  parting  with  a  favourite  horse,  which  he 
still  kept,  notwithstanding  the  decline  of  his  fortunes. 
One  night,  returning  homeward  rather  late,  he  entered, 
in  a  gloomy  mood,  the  piece  of  woodland  which  com 
mences  on  the  decline  of  Flatbush  hill,  between  that  and 
the  pretty  village  of  Flatbush.  The  axe  has  somewhat 
thinned  this  little  forest,  but  at  the  time  of  which  I  write 
it  was  luxuriant  and  dense.  Hans  patted  the  neck  of 
his  favourite  steed,  and  sighed  at  the  thought  of  parting 
with  him.  No  Arab  of  the  desert  was  ever  more 
affectionately  attached  to  the  animal  that  carried  him. 
"  My  poor  Selim,"  said  he,  « I'm  sorry  to  part  with 
thee,  lad,  for  thou  art,  in  truth,  the  horse  of  my  heart. 
But  poverty  parts  good  company.  They  call  me  Dare- 
Devil  Hans — 'Egad !  I  wish  I  could  only  get  the  speech 


24  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

of  the  Old-One,  I  fancy  we  could  strike  a  bargain  in 
the  strapping  of  a  saddle-girth," 

The  words  had  no  sooner  passed  his  lips  than  he 
<'  became  aware"  of  a  gentlemanly  stranger,  clad  in 
black,  and  mounted  on  a  powerful  charger  of  the  same 
sable  hue.  It  did  not  strike  Hans  that  he  had  called  a 
spirit  from  the  vasty  deep,  and  he  accordingly  saluted 
his  companion. 

"  A  fine  evening  for  riding — rather  coolish  though." 

«  Cool !"  returned  the  stranger  in  surprise  : — "  I  call 

it  as  hot  as ."  'Twas  a  lapsus  lingua,  and  he 

checked  himself. 

"Hot!"  cried  Hans — «  'Egad,  sir,  you  must  come 
from  a  cold  climate." 

"  The  contrary,  I  assure  you,"  replied  the  other. 
They  rode  on  awhile  in  silence. 

"  I  say,"  said  Hans,  with  another  effort  at  conversa 
tion  ;  "  you've  a  nice  horse  under  you.  Suppose  you  try 
paces  with  me  for  a  few  miles." 

The  stranger,  nothing  loth,  consented.  Each  spoke 
cheerfully  to  his  horse  and  touched  him  with  the  spur. 
The  two  horses,  fired  with  emulation,  launched  at  once 
into  the  rapid  fury  of  the  race.  They  warm  apace,  their 
joints  become  suppler,  their  action  freer,  they  toss  their 
manes  upon  the  night-breeze,  and  snort  with  joyous 
enthusiasm.  The  riders  are  as  men  insane — the  steeds 
are  as  mad  as  their  masters.  They  stretch  like  grey 
hounds  in  their  headlong  progress ;  the  night-breeze 
alone  outstrips  them.  The  flints  of  Flatbush  sparkle 
for  a  moment  under  foot,  and  then  the  spire  of  its  hoary 
cfeurch  is  left  away  behind.  Victory  hovered  for  a 
moment,  and  then  the  black  steed  shot  ahead. 


HANS  HOPPER,  THE  HORSE-BREAKER.       25 

"  Pull  up !  pull  up !"  cried  Hans,  reining  in  his  reek 
ing  nag.  "  You've  distanced  the  best  horse  on  the 
island,  and  you  must  be  the  very  d — 1." 

"  At  your  service,"  replied  the  other,  bowing  very 
gracefully. 

Hans  was  overjoyed — he  shook  hands  with  Eblis,  and 
invited  him  to  honour  his  humble  dwelling  with  his 
presence.  The  invitation  was  accepted,  and  over  a 
strong  jug  of  Hollands  a  compact  was  agreed  upon. 
The  old  gentleman  promised  Hans  to  be  his  banker  for 
three  years,  during  which  he  was  to  enjoy  unlimited 
health  and  credit ;  but  at  the  expiration  of  that  term  his 
Satanic  Majesty  was  to  call  for  the  devoted  Dutchman. 
The  bargain  once  concluded,  the  two  allies  smoked 
pipes  innumerable,  and  it  was  not  until  the  shrill  crow 
ing  of  chanticleer  proclaimed  the  near  approach  of 
morning  that  the  gentleman  in  sables  mounted  his  black 
horse  and  vanished  in  a  very  equivocal  manner. 

Hans  went  to  bed,  and  awoke  about  ten  o'clock  in  a 
very  happy  state  of  mind.  He  eat  his  breakfast,  and 
then  sauntered  down  to  his  usual  haunt,  the  bar-room 
of  the  tavern,  where  he  surprised  some  of  his  phlegmatic- 
townsmen  into  an  ejaculation,  by  displaying  a  handful 
of  gold  coins.  It  was  soon  rumoured  about  that  Hans 
had  come  into  possession  of  a  handsome  legacy ;  and 
all  who  had  previously  shunned  him,  crowded  eagerly 
to  make  his  acquaintance.  Foremost  among  the  herd 
of  flatterers  were  those  whose  hen-roosts  had  been 
oftenest  visited  by  the  youthful  Hopper — but  they  forgot 
all  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment. 

Hans  was  now  able  to  hold  up  his  head  among  the 
best,  and  kept  company  with  celebrated  training-grooms 

B 


26  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

and  famous  jockeys,  the  magnates  of  the  land.  He 
bought  a  full-blooded  Virginia  mare,  and  became  a 
member  of  the  Jockey  Club.  All  his  speculations  on 
the  turf  were  fortunate,  and  all  his  drafts  upon  his  secret 
banker  duly  honoured.  In  fact,  his  affairs  were  soon  so 
prosperous  that  he  refunded  to  his  ally  all  the  money  he 
had  loaned  him,  with  a  handsome  interest,  and  refused 
any  longer  to  receive  his  aid.  The  devil  waxed  exceed 
ingly  wroth  at  this,  and  became  as  impatient  for  the  time 
when  he  might  claim  his  due,  as  Hans  was  reluctant  to 
have  that  time  approach. 

Meantime  our  hero,  feeling  the  growing  responsibility 
of  a  moneyed  man,  determined  to  reform  his  evil  habits, 
ceased  to  frequent  the  bar-room  of  the  Green  Flagon, 
and  assumed  a  serious  demeanour.  He  repaired  the 
venerable  mansion  of  his  fathers,  and  having  placed  his 
household  affairs  in  the  strictest  order,  led  to  the  hy 
meneal  altar  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  farmer  of  Jamaica, 
a  young  and  blooming  girl.  In  less  than  a  year  after, 
he  was  assured  that  his  possessions  would  not  pass  out 
of  the  family  for  want  of  an  heir.  But  in  the  midst  of 
all  this  happiness  poor  Hans  often  shuddered  when  he 
reflected  how  rapidly  the  time  was  passing,  and  how 
soon  his  infernal  creditor  would  come  to  claim  his  dues. 

As  the  fatal  night  drew  near,  his  spirits  seemed  to 
forsake  him.  He  was  often  absent  and  moody,  and 
would  sometimes  sit  by  the  hour  together  gazing  on  his 
wife  and  child  with  tearful  eyes,  and  .shaking  his  head 
mournfully  if  any  question  was  asked  him.  The  green 
hues  of  summer  had  brightened  into  the  hectic  tints  of 
autumn ;  the  evenings  were  bleak  and  desolate ;  and 
Hans,  as  if  sympathizing  with  universal  nature,  shud- 


HANS    HOPPER,    THE    HORSE-BREAKER.  27 

dered  as  he  drew  his  chair  closer  to  the  fire.  He  now 
seldom  stirred  abroad,  except  to  exercise  his  horses. 
He  frequented  no  races,  went  to  no  merry-rnakings,  and 
seemed  a  sadly  altered  man.  One  night  his  wife  had 
gone  to  bed  betimes,  and  he  was  left  sitting  up  alone. 
It  was  the  fatal  night,  and  the  hour  was  approaching. 
Poor  Hans  sat  gazing  at  the  dial-plate  of  the  old  clock, 
and  counting  every  tick  with  feverish  solicitude.  At 
length  the  clock  struck  twelve.  Hans  started  up,  and 
listened.  Directly-  after  there  was  a  thundering  knock 
at  the  back  door,  and  he  hastened  to  open  it.  Though 
the  night  was  dark,  he  recognised  his  fiendish  creditor 
by  the  fiery  glare  of  his  eyeballs,  and  the  ruddy  glow 
that  issued  from  his  mouth ;  while  his  barbed  tail,  that 
verified  the  portraits  in  the  picture-books,  was  whisking 
restlessly  to  and  fro,  and  describing  arcs  of  circles  on 
the  frozen  ground. 

"  Come !"  cried  his  majesty,  "  you're  v  anted." 
A  thought,  so  vivid  and  instantaneous,  that  it  seemed 
providential,  flashed  across  the  mind  of  Hans.  He 
knocked  the  hat  from  the  head  of  his  fiendish  visiter, 
and  ere  the  latter  could  recover  himself,  he  seized  one 
of  his  horns  with  both  hands  and  dragged  h»m  to  a  range 
of  pegs  on  w?hich  he  hung  his  harness.  Before  the 
astounded  demon  could  recover  himself,  HJMIS  snatched 
a  formidable  cowskin,  and  thrust  a  severe  bit  into  the 
mouth  of  the  arch  enemy.  He  then  began  beating  him 
with  might  and  main.  The  tortured  fiend  fell  upon  his 
hands  and  knees.  In  an  instant  Dare-Devil  Han°>  sprung 
upon  his  back  and  inflicted  the  severest  discipline.  The 
fiend  bolted  and  leaped  from  the  house,  but  Hans  was 
as  firmly  seated  as  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain  or  the 


28  STRAY  SUBJECTS. 

back  of  Sindbad.  His  degraded  majesty  roared  beneath 
the  lash,  reared,  plunged,  and  used  every  mischievous 
exertion  of  which  his  tremendous  strength  was  capable, 
to  unseat  his  rider,  but  in  vain.  At  length,  when  he 
was  totally  obedient,  Hans  vaulted  lightly  to  the  ground 
and  let  him  go.  The  liberated  demon  fled  like  a  bolt 
from  a  bow,  leaving  behind  a  long  trail  of  fiery  light  that 
shone  like  the  track  of  a  comet  in  the  evening  air.  Hans 
breathed  freely — he  was  free — but  this  was  not  all ;  for, 
on  going  into  his  front  yard,  he  discovered  the  devil's 
horse  tied  firmly  to  the  palings.  He  endeavoured  to 
lead  the  animal  to  his  stable ;  but  the  beast  proving  re 
fractory,  he  vaulted  lightly  on  his  back,  and  applied  to 
him  the  same  discipline  which  had  subdued  his  master, 
with  the  same  success.  From  that  time  horse  and  man 
were  friends.  The  creature  (named  Beelzebub,  in 
commemoration  of  his  former  owner)  was  a  valuable 
acquisition,  for  he  won  many  a  plate  and  sweepstakes  for 
his  master,  and  introduced  a  breed  of  colts  into  the 
island  of  extraordinary  strength  and  fire.  Hans  is  yet 
alive,  and  from  his  own  lips  I  learned  his  story.  He 
concluded  his  narration  in  the  following  words;  «  That 
black  horse  was  a  jewel — and  there  was  but  one  bad 
thing  about  him — when  he  was  taken  sick,  brimstone 
wouldn't  physic  him." 

F.  A.  D. 


THE  FASTEST  FUNERiL  ON  RECORD. 

"  Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  the  dead  ride  fast- 
Dost  fear  to  ride  with  me  ?" — Burger's  Leonora. 

"  This  fellow  has  no  feeling  of  his  business." — Hamlet. 

I  HAD  just  crossed  the  long  bridge  leading  from  Boston 
to  Cambridgeport,  and  was  plodding  my  dusty  way  on 
foot  through  that  not  very  agreeable  suburb  on  a  sultry 
afternoon  in  July,  with  a  very  creditable  thunder-cloud 
coming  up  in  my  rear,  when  a  stout  elderly  gentleman, 
with  a  mulberry  face,  a  brown  coat,  and  pepper-and-salt 
smalls,  reined  up  his  nag,  and  after  learning  that  I  was 
bound  for  Old  Cambridge,  politely  invited  me  to  take  a 
seat  beside  him  in  the  little  sort  of  tax-cart  he  was  driving. 

O 

Nothing  loth,  I  consented,  and  we  were  soon  en  route. 
The  mare  he  drove  \vas  a  very  peculiar  animal.  She 
had  few  good  points  to  the  eye,  being  heavy-bodied, 
hammer-headed,  thin  in  the  shoulders,  bald-faced,  and 
rejoicing  in  a  little  stump  of  a  tail  which  was  almost 
entirely  innocent  of  hair.  But  there  were  "  lots  of 
muscle,"  as  Major  Longbow  says,  in  her  hind  quarters. 

"  She  aint  no  Wenus,  sir,"  said  my  new  acquaint 
ance,  pointing  with  his  whip  to  the  object  of  my  scrutiny 
— "  but  handsome  is  as  handsome  does.  Them's  my 
sentiments.  She's  a  rum  'un  to  .look  at,  but  a  good  'un 
to  go." 

"Indeed?" 

"  Yes,  Sir!  That  there  mare,  sir,  has  made  good 
time — I  may  say,  very  good  time  before  the  hearse." 


30  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"Before  the  hearse?" 

"  Before  the  hearse !  S'pose  you  never  heard  of 
burying  a  man  on  time  !  I'm  a  sexton,  sir,  and  under 
taker — JACK  CROSSBONES,  at  your  service — <  Daddy 
Crossbones'  they  call  me  at  PORTER'S." 

"  Ah  !  I  understand.  Your  mare  ran  away  with  the 
hearse." 

"  Ran  away!  A  child  could  hold  her.  Oh!  yes,  of 
course  she  ran  away,"  added  the  old  gentleman,  look 
ing  full  in  my  face  with  a  very  quizzical  expression, 
and  putting  the  fore  finger  of  his  right  hand  on  the  right 
side  of  his  party-coloured  proboscis. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  I,  "  you  have  excited  my 
curiosity  amazingly,  and  I  should  esteem  it  a  par 
ticular  favour  if  you  would  be  a  little  less  oracular  and 
a  little  more  explicit." 

"I  don't  know  as  I'd  ought  to  tell  you,"  said  my 
new  acquaintance,  very  slowly  and  tantalizingly.  «  If 
you  was  one  of  these  here  writing  chaps,  you  might  poke 
it  in  the  <  Spirit  of  the  Times,'  and  then  it  would  be  all 
day  with  me.  But  I  don't  care  if  I  do  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it.  Honour  bright,  you  know!" 

«  Of  course." 

"Well,  then,  I  live  a  piece  up  beyond  Old  Cam 
bridge — you  can  see  our  steeple  off  on  a  hill  to  the 
right,  when  we  get  a  little  further.  Well,  one  day,  1 
had  a  customer — (he  was  carried  off  by  the  typhus) — 
which  had  to  be  toted  into  town — cause  why  ?  he  had 
a  vault  there.  So  I  rubbed  down  the  old  mare  and 
put  her  in  the  fills.  Ah!  Sir!  that  critter  knows  as 
much  as  a  Injun,  and  more  than  a  Nigger.  She's  as 
sober  « as  be  d — d'  when  she  gets  the  shop — that's 


THE    FASTEST    FUNERAL    ON    RECORD.  31 

what  I  call  the  hearse — behind  her.  You  would  not 
think  she  was  a  three-minute  nag,  to  look  at  her. 
Well,  sir,  as  luck  would  have  it,  by  a  sort  of  providen 
tial  inspiration,  the  day  before,  Pd  took  off  the  old 
wooden  springs  and  set  the  body  on  elliptics.  For  I 
thought  it  a  hard  case  that  a  gentleman  who'd  been 
riding  easy  all  his  life,  should  go  to  his  grave  on 
wooden  springs.  Ah !  I  deal  well  by  my  customers.  I 
thought  of  patent  boxes  to  the  wheels,  but  /  couldn't 
afford  it,  and  the  parish  are  so  mighty  stingy. 

"  Well,  I  got  him  in,  and  led  off  the  string — fourteen 
hacks,  and  a  dearborn  wagon  at  the  tail  of  the  funeral. 
We  made  a  fine  show.  As  luck  would  have  it,  just  as 
we  came  abreast  of  Porter's,  out  slides  that  eternal  tor 
ment,  BILL  SIKES,  in  his  new  trotting  sulky,  with  the 
brown  horse  that  he  bought  for  a  fast  crab,  and  is 
mighty  good  for  a  rush,  but  hain't  got  nigh  so  much 
bottom  as  the  mare.  Bill's  light  weight,  and  his  sulky's 
a  mere  feather.  Well,  sir,  Bill  came  up  alongside,  and 
walked  his  horse  a  bit.  He  looked  at  the  mare  and 
then  at  me,  and  then  he  winked.  Then  he  looked  at 
his  nag  and  put  his  tongue  in  his  cheek,  and  winked. 
I  looked  straight  ahead,  and  only  said  to  myself,  <  Cuss 
you,  Bill  Sikes.'  By  and  by,  he  let  his  horse  slide. 
He  travelled  about  a  hundred  yards,  and  then  held  up 
till  I  came  abreast,  and  then  he  winked  and  bantered 
me  again.  It  was  d — d  aggravatin'.  Says  I  to  myself, 
says  I — <  that's  twice  you've  done  it,  my  buzzum  friend 
and  sweet-scented  shrub — but  you  doesn't  do  that  'ere 
again.'  The  third  time  he  bantered  me,  I  let  him  have 
it.  It  was  only  saying  <  Scat,  you  brute!'  and  she  was 
off — that  mare.  He  had  all  the  odds,  you  know,  for 


32  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

I  was  toting  a  two  hundred  pounder,  and  he  ought  tr 
have  beat  me  like  breaking  sticks,  now  hadn't  he  ?  H<\ 
had  me  at  the  first  brush,  for  I  told  you  the  brown  horse 
-was  a  mighty  fast  one  for  a  little  ways.  But  soon  I 
lapped  him.  I  had  no  whip,  and  he  could  use  his 
string — but  he  had  his  hands  full.  Side  by  side,  away 
we  went.  Rattle-te-bang !  crack  !  buz !  thump  !  And 
I  afraid  of  losing  my  customer  on  the  road.  But  I  was 
more  afraid  of  losing  the  race.  The  reputation  of  the 
old  mare  was  at  a  stake,  and  I  swore  she  should  have* 
a  fair  chance.  We  went  so  fast  that  the  posts  and  rails 
by  the  road-side  looked  like  a  log  fence.  The  old 
church  and  the  new  one,  and  the  colleges,  spun  past 
like  Merry  Andrews.  The  hackmen  did  not  know 

what  the was  to  pay,  and,  afraid  of  not  being  in 

at  the  death,  they  put  the  string  onto  their  teams,  and 
came  clattering  on  behind  as  if  Satan  had  kicked  'em 
on  eend.  Some  of  the  mourners  was  sporting  charac 
ters,  and  they  craned  out  of  the  carriage  windows  and 
waved  their  handkerchiefs.  The  President  of  Harvard 
College  himself,  inspired  by  the  scene,  took  off  his 
square  tile  as  I  passed  his  house,  and  waving  it  three 
times  round  his  head,  cried,  «  Go  it,  Boots!'  It  is  a 
fact.  And  I  beat  him,  sir!  I  beat  him,  in  three  miles, 
a  hundred  rods.  He  gin  it  up,  sir,  in  despair. 

«  His  horse  was  off  his  feed  for  a  week,  and  when  he 
took  to  corn  again  he  wasn't  worth  a  straw.  It  was 
acknowledged  on  all  hands  to  be  the  fastest  funeral  on 
record,  though  I  say  it  as  shouldn't.  I'm  an  under 
taker,  sir,  and  I  never  yet  was  overtaken." 

On  subsequent  inquiry  at  Porter's,  where  the  sporting 
sexton  left  me,  I  found  that  his  story  was  strictly  true 


FAMILIAR    LECTURES    ON    SIIAKSI'ERE.  33 

in  all  the  main  particulars.  A  terrible  rumpus  was 
kicked  up  about  the  race,  but  Crossbones  swore  lustily 
that  the  mare  had  run  away — that  he  had  sawed  away 
two  inches  of  her  lip  in  trying  to  hold  her  up,  and  that 
he  could  not  have  done  otherwise,  unless  he  had  run 
her  into  a  fence  and  spilled  his  4  customer'  into  the 
ditch.  If  any  one  expects  to  die  anywhere  near  the 
sexton's  diggings,  I  can  assure  him  that  the  jolly  old 
boy  is  still  alive  and  kicking,  the  very  <  Ace  of  Hearts' 
and  'Jack  of  Spades,'  and  that  now  both  patent  boxes 
and  elliptic  springs  render  his  professional  conveyance 
the  easiest  running  thing  on  the  road. 


FAMILIAR  LECTURES  ON  SHAKSPERE. 

No.  1. 

MACBETH. 

IN  these  days  of  modern  improvement,  when  economy 
properly  embraces  time  as  well  as  the  expenditure  of 
money,  literature  as  well  as  manufacturing  pursuits  have 
their  labour-saving  processes.  By  new  methods  children 
are  taught  algebra  and  metaphysics,  and  we  doubt  not 
before  long  that  infants  will  be  weaned  on  Differential 
Calculus  instead  of  sugar  candy.  Everything  has  been 
abridged.  The  History  of  the  World  is  now  compressed 
into  one  duodecimo,  and  all  the  arts  and  sciences  are 
snugly  lodged  in  one  fat  octavo.  We  propose  to  do 
our  part  by  attempting  the  production  of  a  « Shakspere 
made  Easy,'  hoping  to  get  the  cream  of  the  great  dra- 


34  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

matic  bard  into  a  few  <  neat  paragraphs.'  Our  conden 
sation  will  be  found  to  be  an  adequate  substitute  for  the 
long-winded  lucubrations  of  the  prosy  and  over-estimated 
poet.  As  a  specimen  of  our  plan  and  our  ability,  we 
•will  take  up  the  character  and  tragedy  of  Macbeth. 

Macbeth  is  a  Scotch  gentleman,  supposed  to  have 
flourished  in  some  remote  period  of  antiquity,  before  the 
Celts  had  learned  their  letters  or  the  art  of  penmanship. 
Great  nations  always  begin  backwards.  Their  first  pro 
ceeding  is  to  achieve  great  deeds — their  last  to  record 
them.  Some  people  have  doubted  whether  Macbeth 
ever  existed — but  we  have  had  ocular  evidence  that  he 
did  exist.  We  have  ourself  seen  him  in  the  persons  of 
Cooper,  Forrest,  Kean,  Macready,  Anderson,  and  last, 
not  least,  Mr.  Smith  Brown,  to  whom  we  are  inclined 
to  award  the  palm  of  histrionic  superiority.  The  latter 
gentleman  we  saw  perform  the  character  in  a  hall  at 
Lowell  to  a  small  but  highly  select  and  discriminating 
audience,  consisting  of  four  factory  girls,  three  stout 
gentlemen  connected  with  the  Lowell  and  Boston  line 
of  coaches,  and  a  very  enterprising  merchant  in  the 
roast  peanut  and  molasses  candy  trade.  Mr.  Smith 
Brown's  voice  was  rather  more  cracked  and  unmanage 
able  than  Macready's,  and  consequently  better  fitted  to 
portray  the  wild  and  fluctuating  fortunes  of  the  <  Thane 
of  Cawdor.'  In  the  final  fight  with  MacdufThe  revolved 
slowly  on  his  heel,  leaving  his  back  completely  exposed 
to  his  ferocious  adversary.  But  as  c  One  good  turn  de 
serves  another,'  Macduff  generously  refused  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  this  pirouette,  and  Mr.  Smith  Brown  was  not 
killed  until  several  seconds  afterwards. 

In  Macbeth,  Shakspere  seems  to  have   designed  a 


FAMILIAR    LECTURES    ON    SHAKSPERE.  35 

display  of  the  disadvantages  of  being  henpecked ;  for 
Mrs.  Macbeth,  though  a  Scotchwoman,  is  also  a  Tartar. 
She  was  the  original  Mrs.  Caudle,  and  her  curtain  lec 
tures  changed  her  husband  from  a  quiet  performer  on 
the  Scottish  violin  and  an  ardent  lover  of  rappee,  to  an 
ambitious  seeker  after  royalty.  As  there  is  a  long  step 
between  his  original  position  and  that  of  the  monarch 
of  Scotland,  he  determines  to  succeed  in  his,  or  rather 
in  his  wife's  object  by  imitating  the  Catholic  Priests, 
and  cutting  off  all  the  hairs  (hdrs)  to  the  crown.  Hence 
he  receives  Duncan  into  his  castle  with  the  cheerful 
politeness  manifested  by  the  spider  to  the  fly : 

" ( Won't  you  walk  into  my  parlour  ?' 
Said  the  spider  to  the  fly." 

Duncan  goes  to  bed.  Macbeth,  in  what  we  always 
supposed  to  be  an  access  of  delirium  tremens,  sees  dou 
ble — that  is,  he  sees  a  dagger^  in  the  air  and  another  in 
his  own  hand.  He  walks  into  his  guest's  room,  the 
door  of  which  the  latter  has  forgotten  to  lock,  without 
stumbling  over  his  boots  in  the  entry,  and  giving  him 
his  quietus,  walks  out  again  as  if  he  had  performed  rather 
a  meritorious  action.  When  the  deed  is  discovered,  he 
lynches  a  couple  of  servants  whom  he  charges  with  the 
crime.  We  forgot  to  mention  that  his  success  had  been 
predicted  to  him  by  three  old  maiden  ladies  who  met 
him  and  told  his  fortune  on  what  Shakspere,  with  the 
reprehensible  coarseness  of  his  period,  calls  a  <  blasted 
heath,'  Macbeth  giving  them  a  half  a  crown  to  insure 
him  a  whole  one.  By  force  of  habit  as  well  as  principle, 
he  next  has  his  friend  Banquo  killed — but  the  latter 
gentleman  amuses  himself  by  rising  from  the  grave  and 


36  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

reappearing  unto  Macbeth  at  the  supper-table,  with  all 
sorts  of  unpleasant  faces,  making  himself  as  disagreeable 
as  possible,  until  he  disappears  under  the  stage  by  means 
of  a  trap-door,  to  wash  off  the  red  ochre  and  bury  his 
cares  and  countenance  in  a  pot  of  porter.  After  coming 
a  variety  of  naughty  games,  and  rendering  himself  liable 
to  numerous  indictments,  this  « fine  old  Scottish  gentle 
man'  is  driven  into  a  corner  by  one  Mr.  Macduff,  a  very 
spunky  and  wrathy  individual,  who  does  not  think  the 
usurper  a  nice  man,  and  declares  the  means  by  which 
he  obtained  the  gilt  paper  coronet  that  is  stuck  on  the 
top  of  his  black  wig,  <  very  tolerable  and  not  to  be  en 
dured.'  To  be  sure,  Macduff  is  rather  prejudiced  against 
the  other  Mac  from  the  fact  that  the  latter  has  chosen  to 
while  away  a  tedious  half  hour  by  putting  Mrs.  Macduff 
and  all  the  little  Masters  and  Misses  Macduff  « out  of 
their  misery ;'  consequently  he  flares  up  and  fires  awray 
and  bestows  many  opprobrious  epithets  upon  Mr.  Mac 
beth,  calling  him  among  other  things  a  <•  hell-kite,'  and 
using  other  expressions  unbecoming  a  gentleman  and 
scholar. 

The  upshot  of  it  is,  that  the  two  Mr.  Mc's  have  a 
pitched  battle.  Some  commentators  have  supposed  that 
previous  to  this  fight  Macbeth  had  become  reduced  in 
his  circumstances  and  sought  employment  as  an  ostler, 
from  the  fact  that  he  talks  about  c  dying  with  harness  on 
his  back ;' — but  as  we  have  discovered  that  harness  and 
armour  are  synonymous,  we  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  might  more  properly  be  termed  a  mail-carrier. 
Macbeth  had  relied  upon  getting  the  best  of  it,  because 
the  three  maiden  ladies  above  referred  to  assured  him 
that 


FAMILIAR    LECTURES    ON    SHAKSPERE.  37 

"  No  man  of  woman  born 
Could  harm  Macbeth." 

But  Macduff,  being  a  self-made  man,  succeeds  in 
flooring  his  ferocious  adversary.  What  became  of  the 
body — whether  it  was  sold  to  the  surgeons,  or  given  to 
the  friends  of  the  deceased  (if  he  had  any — we  are  in 
clined  to  infer  that  he  had  not,  from  MacdufPs  £  hitting 
him'),  neither  history  nor  Shakspere  states.  In  fact,  it 
is  of  very  little  importance  ;  and  the  moral  the  drama 
teaches,  is  the  danger  of  one's  permitting  his  better  half 
to  wear  those  habiliments  which  are  the  distinguishing 
characteristics  of  the  costume  of  the  male  sex. 

F.  A.  D. 


No.  2. 
OTHELLO. 

THIS  individual  was  a  coloured  gentleman,  who,  at  the 
period  chosen  by  the  dramatist  to  present  him  to  his 
readers,  wore  a  couple  of  epaulettes,  and  a  broadsword 
much  too  long  for  him,  in  the  service  of  the  Venetian 
Republic.  From  the  frequent  allusions  made  to  the 
intensity  of  his  colour,  we  are  led  to  infer  that  his  pre 
tensions  to  Moorish  origin  were  all  humbug,  and  that  he 
was  actually  a  full  blooded  «  nigger'.  In  fact,  a  scrap  of 
poetry,  never  before  published,  in  Shakspere's  (<  mean 
ing  Bill's')  own  hand-writing,  preserved  in  the  Bodleian 
Library,  says,  evidently  referring  to  Othello, 

"  My  nigger,  him  colour  berry  black; 
He  eat  him  belly-full,  him  drink  him  whack. 
Nobody  dare  play  lark  on  him. 


38  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

Him  got  courage,  so  I  don't  deceive  ; 
And  him  so  berry  black,  you  hardly  believe — 
Charcoal  make  a  white  mark  on  him." 

This  is  direct  evidence  worth  all  the  flimsy  specula 
tions  of  all  the  commentators.  Shakspere  says  nothing 
touching  the  origin  and  education  of  his  hero.  He  was 
probably  first  attached  in  a  subordinate  capacity  to  the 
army  of  the  Republic,  being  doubtless  employed  to 
wait  upon  table  and  black  the  officers'  boots. 

Evincing,  we  are  inclined  to  believe,  evidences  of 
pugnacity  in  various  sets-to  with  his  brother  bootblacks, 
and  probably  making  himself  agreeable  to  his  officers  by 
jumping  Jim  Crow,  playing  on  the  bones,  and  imitating 
the  '  bull-gine,'  he  was  at  length  honoured  by  being 
permitted  to  march  in  a  '  forlorn  hope,'  and  unquestion 
ably  earned  a  commission  by  butting  down  a  score  of 
the  enemy.  Step  by  step  he  rises.  He  finally  shuffles 
himself  into  the  good  graces  of  Miss  Desdemona,  the 
mild  and  pretty  daughter  of  a  fiery  old  gentleman  in  a 
white  wig  and  yellow  boots,  named  Brabantio.  They 
elope,  and  run  to  the  nearest  magistrate,  who  unites 
them  in  the  bonds  of  holy  wedlock,  and  receives,  instead 
of  a  shilling,  a  promise  from  Othello  to  '  owe  it  to  him.' 
When  this  proceeding  is  made  known  to  Brabantio  by 
one  Mr.  lago,  an  unpleasant  individual  in  corkscrew 
curls  and  disagreeable  boots,  (<  his  worship's  ancient,' 
or  <  Old  'Un,')  he  grows  very  red  in  the  face,  indulges 
in  numerous  expletives,  and  talks  of  having  Othello 
marched  off  between  two  constables,  in  accordance 
with  the  old  common  law  adage : 

"  He  who  takes  what  isn't  his'n, 
When  he's  caught  must  go  to  prison." 


FAMILIAR    LECTURES    ON    SHAKSPERE.  39 

But  the  Senators,  who  do  not,  like  our  Senators,  wear 
hats  and  hunting-shirts  in  the  Senate-Chamber,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  are  dressed  in  very  red  baize  gowns  and 
very  white  tow  wigs,  are  of  different  opinion  from  Mr. 
Brabantio  ;  or  rather,  requiring  the  services  of  the  re 
markable  nigger  who  commands  their  forces,  because 
the  Turks  have  been  menacing  their  frontier,  and  kick 
ing  up  a  confounded  fuss  generally,  listen  to  Othello's 
defence,  in  fact  a  very  lame  one,  and  tell  Mr.  Brabantio 
to  go  about  his  business,  a  recommendation  which,  as 
he  is  a  retired  shop-keeper,  and  lives  upon  his  interest, 
is  adding  insult  to  injury.  To  return  to  his  <  Worship's 
Ancient.'  This  unpleasant  individual  gets  hold,  for 
purposes  of  his  own,  of  one  Michael  Cassio,  the  orderly 
sergeant  of  Othello's  own  regiment,  who  commands  the 
guard  at  Cyprus.  This  unfortunate  young  man  is  in 
duced  to  drink  a  large  amount  of  liquor  until  his  intellects 
become  completely  obfuscated,  notwithstanding  which, 
the  Sergeant  asserts  that  he  is  not  drunk  because  he  can 
tell  his  left  hand  from  his  right,  and  to  prove  it,  immediate 
ly  pitches  into  one  Roderigo,  <  a  foolish  gentleman  in  love 
with  Desdemona.'  This  coming  to  the  ears  of  General 
Othello,  induces  the  latter  to  dismiss  him  ;  a  sentence 
spoken  in  the  following  words  : 

"  Cassio  !     I  lub  thee— 
But  nebber  more  be  ossifer  of  mine." 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  unpleasant  individual 
in  the  disagreeable  boots  succeeds  in  making  Othello 
jealous  of  his  wife,  Mr.  Ex-Sergeant  Cassio  being  the 
alleged  invader  of  the  marital  rights.  The  burden  of 
the  proof  lies  in  Cassio's  possession  of  a  pocket-hand- 


40  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

kerchief,  a  white  cotton  one  with  a  strawberry  border, 
which  Othello,  in  a  sudden  fit  of  generosity,  once  gave 
his  wife.  lago  steals  this  handkerchief,  but  makes  the 
ex-bootblack  believe  that  Desdemona  has  given  it  to 
Cassio.  It  is  easily  identified  by  more  senses  than  one, 
because  Desdemona  is  so  much  attached  to  it  that  she 
never  sends  it  to  the  washerwoman,  although  it  is  in 
constant  use.  The  intelligence  of  the  Ancient's  treach 
ery  and  the  innocence  of  Desdemona  comes  just  in  time 
to  be  too  late,  for  Othello,  being  very  much  put  out 
himself,  puts  out  the  light  with  an  extinguisher,  and  then 
extinguishes  Desdemona  with  a  pillow,  notwithstanding 
his  recent  declaration,  so  finely  given  by  Mr.  Rice,  the 
only  correct  representative  of  the  character : 

"  Excellent  wench 

Perdition  catch  my  soul,  hut  I  do  luh  thee ! 
And  .when  I  luh  thee  not, 
Shay-horse  is  come  again  !" 

However,  we  are  perfectly  willing  to  allow  that  no 
thing  could  possibly  be  more  handsome  or  gentlemanly 
than  Othello's  full  confession  of  regret,  when  it  is  too 
late  to  do  any  good — the  very  prompt  manner  in  which 
he  puts  his  sword  through  his  Ancient,  as  one  would  pin 
a  fly  against  a  wall,  and  the  complete  amends  he  makes 
to  all  parties  concerned,  by  severing  his  own  jugular 
with  a  rusty  carving-knife,  <  to  the  satisfaction  of  his 
friends  and  the  public  generally.'  The  play  is  deeply 
and  clearly  moral.  It  enforces  on  the  minds  of  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen  the  propriety  of  marrying  people 
of  their  own  colour — it  teaches  statesmen  the  danger  of 
putting  coloured  gentlemen  into  false  positions,  and  teach- 


FAMILIAR    LECTURES    ON    SHAKSPERE.  41 

cs  temperance  to  all  orderly  sergeants  and  corporals, 
whether  of  l  horse,  foot,  or  heavy  dragoons.' — Bill  really 
made  quite  a  hit  in  this  piece,  and  we  hope  he  had  a 
good  benefit  when  it  was  played  on  his  account  at  the 
Globe. 

F.  A.  D. 


No.  3. 

ROMEO  AND  JULIET. 

THIS  play  is  evidently  intended  as  a  bitter  satire  on 
the  very  foolish  and  inconsiderate  manner  in  which  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  immature  age  fall  in  love  with  each 
other  without  the  slightest  provocation,  to  their  own  dis 
comfort  and  discredit,  and  the  intense  aggravation  of 
their  friends  and  relations.  Mr.  Romeo  Montague  is  a 
very  interesting  young  gentleman  who  has  some  preten 
sions  to  good  looks,  and  accordingly  sets  himself  up  for 
an  Adonis,  cultivating  a  moustache,  and  spending  all  his 
pocket  money  in  Cologne  water  and  Macassar  oil.  He 
is  principally  occupied  in  doing  nothing,  sauntering 
about  the  streets  in  company  with  a  pair  of  scapegraces 
of  his  acquaintance,  named  Mercutio  and  Ben  Some 
thing — Ben  Folio,  we  believe.  As  he  is  engaged  to  be 
married  to  a  very  pretty  and  worthy  girl,  with  a  snug 
little  property  of  her  own,  and  a  fair  prospect  of  enjoy 
ing  uninterrupted  happiness,  it  is  of  course  quite  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  young  gentlemen  of  his  kidney  to 
jilt  his  faithful  love  and  tumble  head  over  heels  in  love 
with  one  Miss  Juliet  Capulet,  the  daughter  of  a  gentle 
man  at  deadly  feud  with  Mr.  Romeo's  familv — in  fact 


42  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

all  the  Montagues  and  Capulets  are  together  by  the  ears, 
and  even  the  scullions  of  the  opposing  houses  are  sure 
to  pitch  into  each  other  when  they  meet  at  the  butcher's 
shop  or  grocer's  store — it  being  very  natural  for  kitchen 
scullions  to  have  a  broil.  This  Miss  Juliet  we  take  to 
be  a  very  romantic,  novel-reading  sort  of  a  miss,  exces 
sively  given  to  star-gazing,  and  profoundly  ignorant  of 

the  mystery  of  making  pies  and  d g  stockings.    She 

has  an  interview  with  young  Romeo  in  her  father's  gar 
den — he  having  scaled  the  wall  like  a  scaly  fellow  for  the 
double  purpose  of  making  love  and  stealing  horse-ches- 
nuts.  Unlike  Ophelia,  Miss  Capulet  has  a  harsh,  creak 
ing  voice,  as  she  herself  tells  us  : — 

"  Else  would  I  tear  the  cave  where  Echo  lies, 

And  make  her  airy  tongue  more  hoarse  than  mine." 

Matters  drive  on  very  fast.  After  being  privately 
united  to  Romeo,  Juliet  is  betrothed  to  one  Count 
Paris — but  to  prevent  her  being  indicted  for  bigamy, 
an  old  Friar  gives  her  a  drug  to  lull  her  to  sleep,  and 
she  is  buried  in  a  trance,  in  the  tomb  of  all  the  Capu 
lets.  We  forgot  to  mention  such  trivial  affairs  as  one 
Tybalt's  killing  Mercutio,  and  one  Romeo  killing  Tybalt, 
as  these  little  incidents  were  quite  common  to  the  period, 
and  altogether  beneath  one's  notice.  Romeo,  thinking 
his  mistress  really  dead,  goes  to  an  apothecary  and 
spends  his  last  half-dollar  in  purchasing  a  junk  bottle  of 
bed-bug  poison,  and  an  ounce  of  ratsbane,  with  which 
he  repairs  to  the  vault  of  the  Capulets  to  have  a  good 
cry  upon  Juliet's  tomb,  and  a  comfortable  lunch  on  his 
refreshments.  By  way  of  pastime,  and  just  to  have  one 
more  bit  of  fun  before  he  makes  away  with  himself,  he 


FAMILIAR    LECTURES    ON    SHAKSPERE.  43 

has  a  fencing-bout  with  Mr.  Paris,  who  very  fortunately 
happens  to  be  cooling  his  heels  in  the  churchyard,  and 
puts  his  smallsword  through  that  gentleman's  waistcoat 
in  quite  a  cheerful  and  pleasant  style,  and  much  to  his 
own  satisfaction.  He  makes  his  way  into  the  tomb, 
converses  with  himself  after  the  approved  fashion  of  all 
the  young  gentlemen  in  all  of  Shakspeare's  plays,  takes 
a  good  drink  of  the  bed-bug,  chews  a  little  arsenic,  and 
lies  down  to  cool  himself  off.  It  would  seem  that  the 
druggist  dealt  in  nothing  but  first  rate  articles,  according 
to  the  following  statement  in  the  play  :  — 

"  Here's  to  my  love  !  Oh,  true  apothecary  ! 

[Drinks  the  poison.'} 
Thy  drugs  are  quick.     Thus  with  a  kiss  I  die. 


Miss  Capulet  wakes  up,  and  after  rubbing  her  eyes, 
sees  her  lover  stretched  on  the  cold  earth  before  her. 
Observing  a  junk  bottle  near  him,  her  first  suspicion  is, 
that  in  desperation  at  her  supposed  death  he  has  taken 
to  drink,  and  stumbled  into  the  vault  in  a  state  of  inex 
cusable  inebriety  to  sleep  off  the  effects  of  his  debauch, 
and  wake  with  a  headache  the  next  morning.  A  label 
on  the  bottle  in  the  handwriting  of  the  apothecary 
("  Don't  tech  this  'ere  —  it's  pizen")  undeceives  her. 
She  knows  that  her  lover  has  committed  a  felo  de  se. 
She  hopes  to  find  a  drop  left,  but  Romeo,  determined 
to  get  his  money's  worth,  has  drained  the  bottle  dry. 
After  searching  in  his  pockets,  she  finds  a  double-bladed 
buck-handled  knife,  with  which  the  poor  young  man 
was  accustomed  to  pare  apples  and  whittle  walking- 
sticks,  and  after  calling  it  very  romantically  a  '  da^-ge^ 


44  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

she  puts  it  into  her  heart  with  a  request  that  it  -will  rust 
there,  and  permit  her  as  a  great  favour  to  expire. 

"  This  is  thy  sheath ;  there  rust  and  let  me  die." 

Of  course  the  dagger  has  no  objections,  and  the 
young  lady  expires.  As  a  wind-up  to  this  disastrous 
affair,  which  of  course  found  its  way  into  the  papers  of 
Verona,  and  made  the  fortunes  of  the  newsboys,  the 
Montagues  and  the  Capulets  come  together,  shake  hands 
over  the  remains  of  the  young  gentleman  and  lady,  and 
go  to  bed  with  easy  consciences  and  every  prospect  of 
continued  happiness,  Mr.  Montague  having  made  a  most 
extravagant  assertion  writh  regard  to  his  intentions : — 

"I  will  raise  her  statue  in  pure  gold;. 

That  while  Verona  by  that  name  is  known. 
There  shall  no  figure  at  that  rate  be  set, 
As  that  of  true  and  faithful  Juliet." 

As  travellers  and  the  guide-books  make  no  mention 
of  this  golden  statue  of  Juliet,  we  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  Mr.  Montague  was  only  selling  his 
friends,  or  if  the  project  was  undertaken,  it  probably 
fell  through  for  want  of  funds 

F.  A.  P. 


ONE  WAY  TO  NULLIFY  A  BAD  LEASE. 

THERE  is  a  shrewd  and  wealthy  old  Yankee  landlord 
away  down  in  Maine,  who  is  noted  for  driving  his 
<  sharp  bargains' — by  which  he  has  amassed  a  large 
amount  of  property.  He  is  the  owner  of  a  great  number 
of  dwelling-houses,  and  it  is  said  of  him  that  he  is  not 
over-scrupulous  in  his  rental  charges,  whenever  he  can 
find  a  customer  whom  he  knows  to  be  responsible.  His 
object  is  always  to  lease  his  houses  for  a  term  of  years, 
to  the  best  tenants,  and  get  the  utmost  farthing  in  the 
shape  of  rent. 

A  diminutive  Frenchman  called  on  him,  last  winter, 
to  hire  a  dwelling  he  owned  in  Portland,  and  which  had 
long  remained  empty.  References  were  given,  and  the 
Yankee  landlord  ascertaining  that  his  applicant  was  a 
man  <  after  his  own  heart'  for  a  tenant,  immediately 
commenced  to  <  jew'  him.  He  found  that  the  tenement 
appeared  to  s-uit  the  little  Frenchman,  and  he  placed  an 
exorbitant  price  upon  it ;  but  the  lease  was  drawn  and 
duly  executed,  and  the  tenant  moved  into  his  new 
quarters. 

Upon  the  kindling  of  fires  in  the  house,  it  was  found 
that  the  chimneys  wouldn't  '  draw,'  and  the  building 
was  filled  with  smoke.  The  window  sashes  rattled  in 
the  wind  at  night,  and  the  cold  air  rushed  through  a 
hundred  crevices  about  the  house,  until  now  unnoticed. 
The  snow  melted  upon  the  roof,  and  the  attics  were 
drenched  from  leaking.  The  rain  pelted,  and  our 


46  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

Frenchman  found  a  <  natural'  bath-room  upon  the  cellar 
floor  —  but  the  lease  was  signed,  and  the  landlord 
chuckled. 

"  I  hav  ben  vat  you  sal  call  <  suck  in,'  vis  zis  dam 
maison"* — muttered  our  victim  to  himself,  a  week  after 
ward — "  but  rfimporte — ve  sal  see,  vot  ve  sal  see !" 

Next  morning  he  rose  bright  and  early,  and  passing 
down  town,  he  encountered  the  landlord. 

"  A-ha ! — Bon  jour ,  monsieur,"  said  he,  in  his  happiest 
manner. 

"  Good-day,  sir.     How  do  you  like  your  house?" 

"  Ah  !  Monsieur — elegant,  beautiful — magnificent ! 
Eh  bien,  monsieur  ;  I  hav  but  ze  one  regret — " 

"Ah!     What  is  that?" 

«  Monsieur — I  sal  live  in  zat  house  but  tree  little  year." 

«  How  so  ?" 

"  I  hav  find,  by  vot  you  sal  call  ze  leese,  zat  you  hav' 
give  me  ze  house  for  but  tree  year,  an'  I  hav'  ver* 
mooch  sorrow  for  zat." 

«  But  you  can  have  it  longer,  if  you  wish — " 

"  Ah,  monsieur — I  sal  be  ver'  mooch  glad  if  I  can 
hav'  zat  house  so  long  as  I  please — eh,  monsieur  ?" 

«  Oh,  certainly — certainly,  sir." 

"  Tres  bien,  monsieur!  I  sal  valk  rite  to  your  offees 
. — an'  you  sal  give  me  vot  you  call  ze  lease  for  zat 
maison  jes  so  long  as  I  sal  vant  ze  house.  Eh,  mon 
sieur?" 

"  Certainly,  sir.  You  shall  stay  there  your  life-time, 
if  you  like." 

"Ah,  monsieur — I  hav'  ver'  mooch  tanks  for  zis 
accommodation." 

The  old  leases  were  destroyed,  and  a  new  one  was 


SEEING    THE    STKAMER    OFF.  47 

delivered  in  form  to  the  French  gentleman,  giving  him 
possession  of  the  premises  for  "such period  as  the  lessee 
may  desire  the  same,  he  paying  the  rent  therefor,  prompt 
ly,"  etc.  etc. 

The  next  morning,  our  crafty  landlord  was  passing 
the  house  just  as  the  Frenchman's  last  load  of  furniture 
was  being  started  from  the  door ;  and  an  hour  afterwards, 
a  messenger  called  on  him  with  a  «  legal  tender'  for  the 
rent  for  eight  days,  accompanied  with  a  note  as  fol 
lows  : — 

"  MONSIEUR, 

I  hav'  bin  shmoke — I  hav'  bin  drowned — I  hav'  bin 
frees  to  death,  in  ze  house  vot  I  hav'  hire  ov  you,  « for 
ze  period  as  I  may  desire/  I  hav'  stay  in  ze  dam 
house  <-jes  so  long  as  IpleeseJ  an'  ze  bearer  of  zis  vil 
give  you  ze  key! — Bon  jour,  monsieur!" 

It  is  needless  to  add  that  our  Yankee  landlord  has 
never  since  been  known  to  give  up  <  a  bird  in  the  hand« 
for  one  in  the  bush !' 

G.  P.  B. 


SEEING  THE  STEAMER  OFF. 

A  FEW  weeks  ago,  on  the  near  eve  of  the  departure  of 
one  of  the  noble  Cunard  liners  for  Halifax  and  Liver 
pool,  the  state  of  the  tide  compelled  her  to  anchor  in 
the  stream  for  a  few  hours  before  sailing,  and,  as  usual, 
a  steam  ferry-boat  was  employed  to  carry  off  the  baggage 
and  passengers,  and  those  friends  who  wished  to  see  the 


48  STitAY    SC EJECTS. 

latter  off.  There  was  of  course,  a  great  shaking  of  hands 
on  board,  some  kisses,  tears,  and  "  good-byes,"  a  good 
many  box-coats  and  Mackintoshes  walking  about  on  the 
upper  deck,  and  a  good  many  petticoats  fluttering  about 
the  saloon.  At  length  the  bell  of  the  little  steamer  along 
side  rang  a  warning  peal,  and  her  skipper  shouted  "  all 
aboard  that's  going  ashore,"  an  order  which  was  prompt 
ly  obeyed  by  a  bevy  of  leave-takers,  the  lines  were  cast 
off,  and  all  ready  for  coming  ashore. 

Atthis  juncture,  an  habitually  pale  young  man,  rendered 
paler  by  anxiety,  and  standing  low  down  in  a  pair  of 
very  flat  boots  with  sharp  toes,  exclaimed,  as  he  clat 
tered  riotously  to  the  side  of  the  ferry-boat,  in  the  wildest 
tones  of  agony :  "  Mr.  Badger !  oh !  Mr.  Badger !" 

The  wind  was  fair  for  Charlestown,  and  perhaps  some 
marine  on  duty  caught  the  exclamation. 

" Hallo!"  yelled  the  young  man,  rendered  frantic  by 
the  efforts  of  the  ferry-man  to  put  off  from  the  steamship. 
t{  Hallo  !  there's  a  man  on  board  what  hadn't  ought  to 
be  there.  Down  in  No.  39.  Mr.  Badger!  Who'll 
tell  him  ?  you  sir  ?  you  sir  ?  you  sir  ?"  he  hurriedly  asked, 
appealing  to  several  grim  heads  that  were  looking  over 
the  bulwarks  of  the  steamship.  "  Jest  some  of  ye,"  he 
screamed,  "  run  down  and  tell  Mr.  Badger  he  can't 
stop.  He  aint  a  goin'  to  England — he  aint.  He  aint  a 
goin'  to  Halifax  even.  Darn'd  clear  of  it.  He  come 
off  to  see  a  frier d  off,  and  I'm  a  friend  of  his'n,  and 
now  he's  a  goin'  off  himself.  Hard  luck !  hard  luck ! 
Mr.  Badger!" 

«  Mr.  Badger  must  be  a  werry  deef'un,"  said  a 
mariner  on  liberty,  looking  very  awkward  and  ferocious 
in  <  long-togs ;'  "  Mr.  Badger  must  be  a  werry  deef'un, 


SEEING    THE    STEAMER    OFF.  49 

not  to  a  hard  the  bell,  and  come  ashore.  Such  a  lubber 
deserves  to  be  keel-hauled,  and  then  dumped  ashore  the 
other  side  of  creation." 

At  this  moment  appeared  a  gleam  of  hope  in  the  head 
of  a  steamship  officer,  designated  by  the  blue  cap  and 
gold  band.  "  Hallo !  You  sir,"  yelled  the  young  man, 
«  run  right  down  and  fetch  up  Mr.  Badger."  The  head 
with  the  gold  band  was  neither  nodded  nor  shaken,  and 
the  ferry-boat  swung  clear  of  the  steamship. 

"0!  you  darn'd  old  chowder-head!"  shrieked  the 
insensate  young  man,  shaking  his  fist  with  impotent  fury 
at  the  immoveable  gold  band,  "  you'll  catch  it  one  of 
these  days.  Carrin'  off  a  'Merrikin  subjlck!  Where 
you  git  so  much  shiny  hat  band  ?"  Then,  his  unnatural 
excitement  giving  way  to  the  most  helpless  despondency, 
he  sat  down  on  the  green  cushions  in  the  cabin  of  the 
ferry-boat,  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  as  a  few 
« natural  tears'  forced  themselves  between  his  fingers, 
thus  soliloquized : — 

"  Hard  luck !  hard  luck !  I  wonder  how  I'll  break  it 
to  his  wife  and  them  children !  Little  did  they  think 
this  mornin'  when  he  gin  'em  a  partin'  lickin'  and  told 
'em  to  be  good  boys  till  he  got  back  agin,  that  they 
would'nt  see  him  for  a  month. 

"By  gracious!"  he  yelled,  warming  up  again:  *<I 
can't  believe  it!  Goin'  to  England — or  least-ways  to 
Halifax!  Tormented' lightnin' !  why,  he  hain't  got  no 
money,  nor  no  shirts  /" 

At  this  moment  came  a  comforter  in  the  portly  person 
of  a  friend  of  ours. 

"  You  needn't  take  it  so  to  heart,"  said  he  ;  "  your 
friend  is  a  fool,  of  course,  or  he  wouldn't  have  stayed  on 


50  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

board,  -but  we're  going  off  back  with  the  mails,  ani  I'll 
fetch  him  ashore  to  you." 

The  poor  fellow's  face  grew  so  short,  one  would  have 
thought  it  had  been  cut  off;  and  with  a  cheerful  smile 
he  answered  that  he  "  always  know'd  Badger  was  a  jo- 
fired  fool,  but  he  didn't  want  him  carried  off  in  the 
steamer  for  all  that." 

F.  A.  D. 


"ZAT  IS  MY  TRUNK!" 

IN  the  days  of  coaching  over  the  Providence  turnpike, 
before  railroad  cars  were  in  esse,  and  baggage-crates  ex 
isted,  and  when  travellers  had  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out 
for  their  luggage,  some  forty  or  fifty  passengers  had  just 
stepped  on  board  the  old  "  Ben  Franklin,"  and  got 
under  way  on  Narragansett  Bay.  A  gentleman,  who  had 
occasion  to  get  some  of  his  wardrobe,  had  just  hauled 
out  from  an  immense  pile  of  baggage  stowed  amidships, 
a  new  black  leather  trunk  of  portly  dimensions,  studded 
with  brass  nails,  when  a  little  withered  Frenchman,  of  a 
mottled  complexion,  and  fashionably  dressed,  darted 
from  the  crowd,  and  interposing  between  our  friend  and 
his  property,  exclaimed,  courteously,  but  positively — 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sare — mais,  pardonnez  moi — 
you  have  got  ze  wrong  cochon  by  ze  oreille — zat  is  my 
trunk!" 

"Not  so,  monsieur — I  hope  I  know  my  own  traps." 

«  Restez  tranquille — hold  on — dans  un  instant,  I  vill 
prove  my  props — aha !  you  see  dis  key,  eh  ?"  Apply 
ing  it  to  the  lock,  he  threw  up  the  lid,  and-  then  struck 


AN    AFTER-CLAP    TO    A    LAW-SUIT.  51 

a  triumphant  attitude.     "  My  key  unlock  you  trunk — 
eh  ?  tell  me  zat !" 

"  Stand  out  of  the  way  ! — it's  my  trunk,  I  tell  you." 

"  Hold  on  von  leetle  minute ! — zose  you  shurrts,  eh  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  they  are  !" 

"  Zose  you  drowaires,  eh  ? 

"  Certainly  !" 

"  Vait  a  moment — I  will  prove  my  props,  sare" — 
and  the  little  Frenchman,  rummaging  beneath  a  pile  of 
shirts  and  socks,  produced  a  bottle,  and  said  deliberately, 
with  a  hideous  grin — 

"  Zat — your — bot-telle  of  Dom-frees  Ish  (Itch)  oint 
ment — sare — eh  ?  Ave  you  got  von  leetle  Ish  ?  Zis 
you  Remede  for  ze  lepros  (leprosy),  eh  ?  Ah  !  be  dam ! 
I  know  it  was  my  trunk  !" 

It  is  needless  to  remark  that  our  friend  immeidately 
'  opened  a  wide  gap'  between  himself  and  the  interest 
ing  victim  of  two  of  the  most  unpopular  disorders  known 
to  suffering  humanity 

F.  A.  D. 


AN  AFTER-CLAP  TO  A  LAW-SUIT. 

THERE  are  certain  individuals  in  existence  who  are 
prone  to  buckle  themselves  to  trouble,  and  who,  by  their 
own  acts  (instead  of  profiting  by  the  ills  they  suffer), 
are  eternally  piling  misery  upon  their  own  backs.  The 
Devil  loves  to  frolic  with  them — and,  clutching  them  in 
the  cradle,  he  clings  to  them  to  the  grave ! 

It  was  a  bright  day  in  the  summer  of  184-,  when  a 


62  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

score  or  more  of  merry-hearted  fellows  deserted  the 
smoke-dried  atmosphere  of  the  city,  bound  on  an  excur 
sion  some  dozen  miles  distant,  for  the  purpose  of  enjoy 
ing  a  "  sit  down,"  a  comfortable  dinner,  and  a  glass  of 
claret  afterward.  Arriving  at  their  destination  in  safety, 
the  fixin's  were  ordered,  and  in  due  season  dinner  was 
announced,  and  the  company  were  seated.  The  first 
course  had  scarcely  disappeared,  when,  on  a  sudden,  the 
door  of  the  dining  parlour  was  rudely  thrust  open,  and  a 
tall,  brawny,  iron-framed  Virginian  entered  the  room, 
without  the  compliment  of  "  by  your  leave."  As  he 
passed  the  door-sill,  his  stalwart  frame  nearly  filled  the 
passage,  and  his  whole  appearance  plainly  indicated  that 
he  was  strongly  excited.  In  his  right  hand  he  carried 
a  sort  of  heavy  horse-whip,  the  lash  of  which  was  coiled 
tautly  around  the  stock.  As  soon  as  he  had  fairly  en 
tered  the  room,  he  was  informed  that  the  apartment 
was  private,  and  a  hint  was  tendered  him,  that  he  had 
probably  mistaken  the  entrance. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  he,  roughly  ;  "  I  came  here 
on  business." 

"  Business — here  ?" 

"  Here,  sir !  Which  of  you  answers  to  the  name  of 
Pleadwell,  of  B e?" 

"  It  sounds  very  like  mine,"  instantly  replied  Mr.  P., 
who  arose  in  the  coolest  possible  mariner,  and  who,  by 
the  way,  measured  scarcely  five  feet  four,  in  his  boots. 

"  Ah — yes,"  continued  the  Virginian,  "  I  recoiled 
you" 

«  Well,  sir." 

"  You  sued  me,  three  weeks  since" 

"Indeed?" 


AN    AFTER- CLAP    TO    A    LAW- SUIT,  53 

"  at  the  instigation  of  Beatem." 

"  Couldn't  say,  sir,  really — but" 

"  But  I  say  you  did,  sir  !" 

"  Ay,  very  likely.  And  you  are  not  the  first  man  I 
have  had  the  honour  of  serving  in  a  similar  manner." 

"  I  thought  so,"  continued  the  bully.  "  You  gained 
the  cause,  and  I  suffered  for  it.  I  paid  my  respects  at 
the  door  of  your  empty  office  this  morning — I  learned 
you  were  here,  and  I  have  followed  you  for  the  express 
purpose  of  giving  you  a  thrashing  for  the  extra  pains 
you  took  to  turn  the  cise  against  me !" 

"  Ton  my  life,  sir,  your  mission  is  a  novel  one,  at 
any  rate;  but  I  would  respectfully  solicit  the  favour  of 
being  left  at  leisure,  with  my  friends  here,  for  the  time 
being,  and  as  soon  as  dinner  is  over,  I  shall  not  object 
to  giving  you  the  opportunity  to  void  your  bile." 

"  I  am  not  here  to  parley,  sir.  I  am  bent  on  thrash 
ing  you,  and  thrash  you  I  will,  before  I  leave  this  place, 
by  G— !" 

Several  of  the  party  now  arose  and  insisted  on  the 
intruder's  immediate  absence.  He  swore,  however,  that 
he  would  have  satisfaction  on  the  spot,  and  it  was  not 
until  the  company  rose  en  masse,  that  he  consented  to 
leave  the  apartment. 

As  soon  as  the  door  closed  on  him,  Pleadwell  ex 
plained  in  detail  the  case  to  which  he  presumed  the 
stranger  alluded,  concluding  with  the  remark  that  "  he 
feared  he  had  a  bad  fellow  to  deal  with."  He  was 
satisfied,  nevertheless,  that  his  friends  would  not  stand 
by  and  see  him  taken  at  a  disadvantage. 

While  the  wine  was  circulating  the  Virginian  repaired 
to  the  stable,  adjusted  his  whip,  and  returning,  took  a 


64  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

convenient  station  near  the  outer  door  of  the  hotel, 
where  he  expected  Pleadwell  might  pass — swearing, 
meantime,  that  "  he  would  give  the  lawyer  such  a  lesson 
as  he  would  remember." 

This  untoward  visit  was  the  occasion  of  putting  a 
damper  upon  the  hilarity  of  the  little  party  at  dinner, 
and  but  a  brief  sitting  was  indulged  in,  after  the  removal 
of  the  cloth.  The  landlord  entered  the  dining-room  and 
informed  the  visiters  of  the  menacing  prospect,  outside 
— and  the  attorney  having  stepped  to  the  window,  ob 
served  the  belligerent  in  front  of  the  door- way  brandish 
ing  his  massive  whip,  and  muttering  in  the  most  ardent 
and  fantastic  manner  imaginable,  to  himself. 

The  friends  of  Pleadwell  entertained  no  fears  for  him, 
singlehanded,  with  an  ordinary  opponent  (for  he  was 
well  skilled  in  the  pugilistic  art),  but  from  the  enormous 
size  of  the  stranger,  and  his  athletic  appearance  gene 
rally,  it  was  fair  to  suppose  that  he  might  crush  his 
little  antagonist  with  a  single  pass.  Pleadwell  was 
therefore  advised  to  go  out  at  a  side-door,  and  avoid 
him,  but  he  positively  declined  to  show  the  white  feather. 
Finding  remonstrance  of  no  avail,  the  company  passed 
out  in  a  body,  with  the  determination  of  preventing  a 
meeting,  if  possible,  but,  at  all  events,  to  stand  by  their 
friend  in  case  of  need.  The  stranger  saw  the  door 
opened,  and  he  looked  anxiously  for  the  attorney  (who 
was  by  no*  means  unmindful  of  his  gestures).  Instead 
of  passing  out  as  the  Virginian  evidently  expected  he 
would  do,  Pleadwell  crossed  the  hall,  followed  closely 
by  his  friends,  and  as  he  arrived  at  the  outer  door,  the 
stranger  having  passed  around  the  house,  turned  in  sight 
at  the  corner.  Pleadwell  stepped  upon  the  walk — the 


AN    AFTER- CLAP    TO    A    LAW- SUIT.  55 

Virginian  saw  him,  sprang  forward  to  the  spot,  and 
levelled  a  blow  at  him  with  his  whip  which  must  have 
brought  the  attorney  to  the  earth,  had  it  reached  him. 
But  the  lawyer  was  on  his  guard-  he  sprang  out  of 
harm's  way,  and  stood  firmly  before  his  foe  at  arm's 
length  distance. 

"  Hold,  sir !"  said  Pleadwell,  hurriedly,  "  the  safety 
of  your  person  rests  with  yourself!  Attempt  to  raise 
that  whip  again,  and  you  must  answer  for  the  conse 
quences." 

The  Virginian  heeded  not  the  warning — his  arm  wras 
raised — the  whip  whistled  in  the  air — and  the  next 
instant  the  assailant  dashed  heavily  upon  the  walk !  A 
shudder  passed  over  that  strong  frame,  and  he  was  taken 
up  senseless,  and  carried  into  the  hotel.  Pleadwell 
struck  him  a  terrible  blow  directly  on  c  the  stomach's 
pit,'  which  drove  the  breath  completely  out  of  his  body. 
He  appeared  as  nearly  dead  as  possible — a  physician 
was  called  in,  and  the  injured  man  was  instantly  blood 
ed.  He  showed  signs  of  life,  however,  in  a  few  moments, 
and  half  an  hour  afterwards  it  was  ascertained  that  he 
was  but  temporarily  injured.  The  brief  remark  which 
escaped  him  was  a  faint  desire  to  be  '  carried  home !' 
His  destination  was  made  out,  and  he  was  forthwith 
removed  from  the  hotel. 

The  blow  was  given  in  self-defence,  and  though 
Pleadwell  was  a  good  deal  disturbed  as  regarded  future 
consequences,  yet  a  month  elapsed,  and  nothing  further 
transpiring  in  relation  to  the  matter,  the  rencontre  wa? 
forgotten  by  himself  and  his  companions. 

G.   P.  B. 


PURCHASING  A  LIVE  LOBSTER, 

A  RAW-LOOKING  beauty — standing  some  six  feet  or 
more,  in  his  boots — fresh  from  the  interior,  arrived  in 
town  [Philadelphia]  a  day  or  two  since,  with  a  view  to 
examine  the  '  lions'  in  the  city  of  Friends. 

He  had  walked  leisurely  round  Girard  College — his 
'  wondering  gaze'  had  been  gratified  with  a  peep  at 
the  Branch  Mint,  where  a  common-looking  chap  'made 
money'  a  darned  sight  faster  than  ever  he  could; — he 
had  seen  the  old  United  States  Bank,  but,  for  the  life 
of  him,  couldn't  find  the  place  where  it  had  busted ! — 
he  had  sauntered  through  Fairmount,  where  some  'cute 
feller  was  squirting  water  round,  most  beautiful — he 
had  marched  around  the  outskirts  of  the  Penitentiary, 
but  they  weren't  sharp  enough  to  get  him  in  there — oh, 
no! — he  had  trotted  through  the  Museum,  which  he 
didn't  consider  any  very  'great  shakes' — and,  just  be 
fore  leaving  in  the  eight  o'clock  train,  for  home,  he 
strolled  down  to  the  Market-house,  to  ascertain,  if  possi 
ble,  where  all  the  vegetables  and  things  went  to. 

Having  examined  the  premises  for  some  time,  he 
suddenly  halted  before  a  wagon  which  stood  near  by, 
the  floor  of  which  was  covered  with  about  a  score  of 
live  lobsters,  wriggling  and  tumbling  over  each  other. 
He  was  unfortunately  afflicted  with  a  habit  of  stammer 
ing.  After  watching  the  '  sight'  for  several  minutes, 
he  sidled  up  to  the  owner,  at  last,  with — 

*<  Wo-wo-wot's  them,  mister  ?" 


PURCHASING    A    LIVE   LOBSTEE.  57 

"  Lobsters,  sir." 


"  Yes,  sir.     Werry  fine." 
"  W-wul—  I've  heern  te-tell  o'lobstiss." 
"  Hexcellent  heatin',  sir  —  is  lobsters.    Hev  *un,  sir  ?" 
"  W-wu-wul,  I  reck'n  y-y-yes.    Wo-wot's  the  dam- 
age?" 

"  Three  levies,  sir."  f 

"How  d-d  —  how  do  you  eat  lo-lob-'obstiss  ?" 
"  Vith  yer  teeth,  pooty  gin'ral,  sir." 
"  Y'ye-yes.     But  coo-coo-'oo&  'em,  I  mean." 
"Oh.     Bile  'em,  sir—  bile  'em.     Thank'ee:  jest  the 
change"  —  added   the   wagoner;   and,   depositing  the 
'  tin'   in   his   '  shot-bag,'    he   placed  the   *  lobstiss'   in 
the  hands  of  its  lawful  owner. 

The  stranger  bade  the  seller  good  day,  placed  his 
prize  under  his  arm,  tail  downwards—  and  started  for 
the  Rail  Road  Depot  in  Market  Street. 

The  lobster  was  '  fresh  caught'  (it  so  chanced)  and 
proved  very  unruly  —  squirming  and  writhing  about  ; 
our  countryman  was  constantly  adjusting  his  burthen, 
until  he  had  finally  managed  to  raise  its  claws  on  a  line 
with  the  side  of  his  own  head.  Suddenly  one  of  the 
critter's  flippers  extended,  and  closed  again  with  a  smart 
smack  —  grasping  in  its  clutch,  the  greater  portion  of 
the  poor  fellow's  right  ear  ! 

An  indescribable  twist  pervaded  the  countryman's 
phiz  —  his  teeth  became  set  in  an  instant  —  and  lowering 
his  head,  he  started  into  a  rapid  walk  —  with  — 

"—  'od  rot  him!  Oh—  th-under  !  —  Le-le-let  go! 
B-b-bla-blast  yur  pictur  !  —  don't  —  ough  !  Mur-m-mur- 
der  —  murder  !  /" 


58  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

A  bevy  of  youngsters  had  discovered  the  poor  devil's 
predicament,  as  he  rushed  along  the  walk,  and  he  soon 
quickened  his  pace  into  a  sharp  trot,  making  good  head 
way  towards  the  Depot,  the  lobster  dangling  from  the 
side  of  his  head  like  a  huge  old-fashioned  ear-drop !  As 
the  crowd  gathered  on  .his  track,  he  increased  his  speed 
to  a  "  dead  run" — still  bawling,  at  the  top  of  his  lungs — 

"  Oh  Lor4  !— ta-ta-'ake  him  off !  M-m-mur-dar  /— 
Cu-cu-cuss  him  !  Take  him  dow-d-'own  !" 

"  Go  it,  Boots !"  shouted  the  crowd. 

"Pu-pu-'ull  the  c-c-cussid  varmint  off!  Ta-'ake  him 
back  ! — I  d-d-don't  wa-'ant  no  lo-lo-'obstiss  " — and 
stopping  suddenly,  before  a  benevolent-looking  Quaker 
gentleman,  upon  the  walk,  he  begged  him  to  take  the 
infernal  viper  away  ! 

The  countryman's  ear  resembled  a  purple-ripe  plum, 
when  the  kind-hearted  gentlemen  seized  the  claw  and 
relieved  him  of  his  load.  As  the  circulation  of  blood 
resumed — the  unhappy  victim  bestowed  on  his  benefac 
tor  a  kind  of  smile  (unable  to  articulate  a  syllable)  such  a 
smile  as  one  might  suppose  would  result  from  screwing 
an  inch  auger  through  the  spine  of  a  man's  back. 

Our  unfortunate  friend  was  grateful,  but  he  couldn't 
speak.  It  was  now  the  turn  of  the  Quaker  gentleman 
to  smile — because  he  couldn't  help  it — the  object  before 
him  appeared  so  perfectly  ludicrous.  But  his  was  a 
bland  smile  of  sympathy,  such  a  one  as  only  a  Quaker 
can  bestow. 

But  our  benevolent  friend  in  the  broad  brim,  was 
careless — he  was!  In  his  efforts  to  aid  the  unlucky 
countryman,  he  had  secured  the  lobster  by  the  claw, 
and  he  still  held  him  dangling  at  his  side. 


PURCHASING    A    LIVE    LOBSTER.  59 

"Hurt  thee  much,  friend?" 

" Blast  him !— ooh  /" 

"  Thee  shouldn't  swear,  friend,"  quietly  responded 
the  Quaker — but  as  he  concluded  this  sentence  of  ad 
vice,  a  most  unearthly  scowl  shot  across  his  previously 
placid  countenance — and  his  face  was  contorted  with 
the  direst  grimaces!  The  lobster  closing  his  claw, had 
clutched  the  Quaker's  fingers  till  the  blo$d  started  un 
der  the  nails ! 

"  — 'igh ! —  Oo,  dear  me — Ow  ! — the  scamp  —  take 
him  away," — shrieked  the  Quaker,  nearly  fainting  with 
pain. 

"Da-da-d defldo"— 

"  Take  him,  friend  " 

"  N-n-no  yer  do-n't !  Yer  ger-gu-gut  him  ch-eap- 
er'n  7  did — c-cost  me  three  sh-sh-shillins  ; — but  it's  n- 
n-no  matter  about  that." 

"  He's  a  vicious  creetur." 

"  S-s-so  7  thought — m-m-mister." 

"  There  /"  added  the  Quaker,  at  last ; — and  disenga 
ging  the  monster  from  his  hand,  he  dashed  it  to  the 
ground. 

A  news-boy  secured  the  lobster,  to  which  no  sort  of 
objection  was  made  by  the  injured  parties. 

A  crowd  had  collected  around  the  scene,  and  the 
countryman  at  last  bethought  him  of  the  cars.  The 
clock  commenced  striking  eight — the  Quaker  disap 
peared — and  our  friend  dashed  into  the  Depot,  at  the 
sound  of  the  '  last  bell ' — swearing  as  plainly  as  his 
excitement  would  permit,  that  he  had  "  had  e-nu-nu- 
'ough  of  li-live  lo-obstiss  /" 

G.  P.  B. 


A  PAIR  OF  PARODIES. 


ALICE  GRAY. 

SHE  isn't  what  I  painted  her — 

A  thing  all  hearts  to  win — 
I  saw  no  beauty  when  I  found 

She  hadn't  got  the  '  tin.' 
I  loved  her  upwards  of  a  week — 

But  found  it  wouldn't  pay ; 
So  I  '  took  my  hat  and  went  ashore' 

And  cut  Miss  Alice  Gray. 

Her  dark  brown  hair  was  all  a  sham — 

Her  forehead  f  Jones's  white,' 
One  eye  an  artificial  one, 

The  other  far  from  bright. 
Oh !  she  may  twine  her  purchased  curls 

She  mustn't  look  this  way — 
My  heart  is  far  from  breaking 

For  the  love  of  Alice  Gray. 

I've  sunk  a  very  pretty  sum 
In  rides  and  sweetmeats  past ; 

And  haven't  now  the  first  red  cent- 
She  drained  me  of  the  last. 


HE    WORE    A    FLASHY    WAISTCOAT.  61 

How  green  I  was,  in  earnest  grave, 

I  certainly  must  say ; 
I  shall  be  cut  by  all  the  <  B'hoys* 

For  courting  Alice  Gray. 


HE  WORE  A  FLASHY  WAISTCOAT. 

i 

HE  wore  a  flashy  waistcoat,  on  the  night  when  first  we 

met, 

With  a  famous  pair  of  whiskers  and  imperial  of  jet ; 
His  air  had  all  the  haughtiness,  his  voice  the  manly  tone 
Of  a  gentleman  with  eighty  thousand  dollars  of  his  own. 
I  saw  him  but  a  moment,  yet  methinks  I  see  him  now, 
With  a  very  flashy  waistcoat  and  a  beaver  on  his  brow. 

And   once  again  I  saw  that  brow  —  no  neat  « Legay" 

was  there, 
But  a  <  shocking  bad  'un'  was  his  hat,  and  matted  was 

his  hair. 
He  wore  a  «  brick'  within  that  hat — the  change  was  all 

complete — 
And  he  was  flanked  by  constables  who  marched  him  up 

the  street. 

I  saw  him  but  a  moment,  yet  methinks  I  see  him  now, 
Charged  bv  those  worthy  officers  with  kicking  up  a  row. 

F.  A.  D. 


HE  WANTED  TO  SEE  THE  ANIMAL. 

THE  publishers  of  a  well  known  periodical  in  town, 
have  placed  in  front  of  their  office,  in  Tremorit  street, 
a  very  extensive  sign  board,  upon  which  is  emblazoned 
the  words — 

'  LITTELL'S 
LIVING  AGE.' 

A  green  horn,  fresh  caught — wrho  came  to  the  city 
to  look  at  the  '  glorious  Fourth' — chanced  to  be  pass 
ing  towards  the  Common,  when  his  attention  was  ar 
rested  by  the  above  cabalistic  syllables.  Upon  one  side 
of  Bromfield  street  he  saw  the  big  sign,  upon  the  other 
the  word  '  MUSEUM.' 

"Wai,"  said  he  to  himself,  "I've  hearn  tell  o'  them 
museums,  but  a  f  livin'  age,9  big  or  little,  must  be  one 
o'  them  curiosities  we  read  abaout." 

He  stepped  quietly  across  the  street,  and  wiping  his 
face,  approached  one  of  the  windows,  in  which  were 
displayed  several  loose  copies  of  the  work.  He  read 
upon  the  covers,  '  Littell's  Living  Age,'  and  upon  a 
card,  '  Popular  Magazine — only  one  of  its  kind  in  the 
country,'  &c. 

"  Magazine  f  Wai,  that  beats  thunder  all  teu  smash ! 
I  've  hearn  abaout  paouder  magazines,  an'  all  that ; 
— wal,  I  reck'n  I'll  see  the  crittur,  enny  how  !" — and 
thus  determined,  he  cautiously  approached  the  door.  A 
young  man  stood  in  the  entrance. 


HE    WANTED    TO    SEE    THE    ANIMAL.  63 

"When  does  it  open?"  asked  the  countryman. 

"What,  sir?" 

"  Wot  time  does  it  begin  ?" 

"What?" 

"  The  show !" 

"What  show?" 

"  Wy,  that  are — this" — continued  our  innocent  friend, 
pointing  up  to  the  sign. 

The  young  man  evidently  supposed  the  stranger  in 
sane — and  turning  on  his  heel,  walked  into  the  office. 

"  Wai,  I  dun  no  'baout  that  feller,  much — but  I  reck- 
'n  I  hevn't  cum  a  hunderd  miles  to  be  fooled — I  ain't, 
and  I'm  goin'  teu  see  the  crittur,  sure." 

"Hello!  I  say,  Mr.  Wat's- name,  there — doorkeep 
er  !  Hel-/o  / 

A  clerk  stepped  to  the  door  at  once,  and  inquired 
the  man's  business. 

"  Wot  do  I  want  ?  Wy,  I  want  to  see  the  animal, 
that's  all." 

"  What  animal  1" 

"  Wy,  this  crittur ." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  sir." 

"  Wai — you  don't  luk  as  ef  you  could  understan*  no- 
buddy,  enny  how.  Jes  send  the  doorkeeper  yere." 

By  this  time  a  crowd  had  collected  in  and  about  the 
doorway,  and  the  green  'un  let  off  something  like  the 
following : — 

"  That  chap  as  went  in  fust,  thar,  ain't  nobuddy,  ef  he 
has  got  a  swaller-tailed  coat  on.  My  money's  as  good 
as  his'n,  and  it's  a  free  country  to-day.  This  young 
man  ain't  to  be  fooled  easy,  now  I  tell  you.  I  cum 
down  to  see  the  Fourth,  and  I've  seen  him.  This  mor- 


64  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

nin'  1  see  the  elephant,  and  naow  I'm  bound  to  see  this 
crittur.  Hel-/o— there,  mister!" 

As  no  one  replied  to  him,  however,  he  ventured  again 
into  the  office,  with  the  crowd  at  his  heels,  and  address 
ing  one  of  the  attendants,  he  inquired — 

"  Wot's  the  price,  nabur?" 

"The  price  of  what,  sir  ?" 

"Of  the  show!'* 

"  There  is  no  show  here,—" 

"  JVb  show  !  What'n  thunder  der  yer  leave  the  sign 
out  for,  then  ?" 

"  What  would  you  like  to  see,  sir  ?"  said  another 
gentleman. 

16  Why,  I  want  to  see  the  animal." 

"  The  animal  ?" 

«  Yes— the  crittur." 

"  I  really  do  not  understand,  sir." 

"  Why  yes  yer  dew.  I  mean  the  wot' s- name,  out 
there" — pointing  to  the  door. 

"Where?" 

"  Hevn't  yer  gut  a  sign  over  the  door,  of  a  "  little 
LIVIX' — sum  thin',  hereabouts  ?" 

"  LITTELL'S  LIVING  AGE?" 

"  That's  the  crittur — them's  um — trot  him  aout,  na 
bur,  and  yere's  yure  putty." 

Having  discovered  that  he  wras  right  (as  he  suppo 
sed),  he  hopped  about,  and  got  near  the  door  again. 

Pending  the  conversation,  some  rascally  wag  in  the 
crowd,  had  contrived  to  attach  half  a  dozen  lighted  fire 
crackers  to  the  skirt  of  our  green  friend's  coat ;  and  as 
he  stood  in  the  attitude  of  passing  to  the  supposed  door 
keeper  a  quarter — crack !  bang  !  went  the  fire-works, 


CONCERNING  CROWS  AND  CAPE  ANN  JOKERS.    65 

and  at  the  same  instant  a  loafer  sang  out  at  the  top  of 
his  lungs — "  look  out  !  the  crittur's  loose /" 

Perhaps  the  countryman  didn't  leave  a  wide  wake  be 
hind  him  in  .that  crowd,  and  maybe  be  didn't  astonish  the 
multitude  along  Colonnade  Row,  as  he  dashed  towards 
the  foot  of  the  Common,  with  his  smoking  coat-tails 
streaming  in  the  wind ! 

Our  victim  struck  a  bee-line  for  the  Providence  De 
pot,  reaching  it  just  as  the  cars  were  ready  to  go  out. 
The  crowd  arrived  as  the  train  got  under  way,  and  the 
last  we  saw  of  the  '  unfortunate,'  he  was  seated  at  a 
window  whistling  most  vociferously  to  the  engine,  to 
hurry  it  on ! 

G.  P.  B. 


CONCERNING  CROWS  AND  CAPE  ANN 
JOKERS. 

I  HAVE  always  had  a  great  respect  for  the  common 
crow,  Corvus  Jlmericanus  I  believe  the  ornithologists 
call  him.  There  is  something  remarkable  and  imposing 
in  his  attire. 

"  The  carrion  crow  has  a  coat  of  black, 
Silky  and  sleek,  like  a  priest's,  to  his  back." 

Then  he  commands  respect  by  his  superior  intelligence. 
No  one  knows  better  than  he  where  and  how  grub  may 
be  obtained,  in  defiance  of  spring-guns,  fire-arms,  and 
scarecrows.  How  many  a  solemn  haw  !  haw!  must  he 
have  indulged  in  on  surveying  the  libellous  imitations 
of  humanity  erected  by  rustics  upon  planted  fields  in  the 


66  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

idle  hope  of  terrifying  him  by  so  poor  a  semblance  of 
danger.  These  shabby  proofs  of  man's  fatuity  must 
afford  him  an  additional  relish  to  his  stolen  morsel,  as 
he  roots  up  the  delicious  kernels  with  his  active  and 
avid  bill.  How  often  has  the  solemn  rascal  mocked  at 
me  in  my  younger  days  as  I  have  trailed  him,  mile 
upon  mile,  on  foot,  through  the  fog  and  slosh  of  a 
January  thaw,  in  the  vain  hope  of  catching  him  napping 
— for  my  respect  never  prevented  my  vain  demonstra 
tions  of  hostility.  In  a  group  of  friends  the  other 
day, '  talking  of  guns'  brought  up  the  subject  of  crows 
— and  one  or  two  gentlemen  recounted  the  details  of 
successful  campaigns  waged  against  them.  The  boys 
up  in  New  Hampshire  used  to  ascertain  the  bearings  of 
a  crow's  nest,  and  then  plant  a  loaded  musket  sighted 
and  aimed  properly  at  the  devoted  citadel.  Returning 
in  the  night,  when  the  old  bird  was  asleep  on  the  nest, 
they  would  pull  trigger,  and  annihilate  the  enemy.  One 
of  the  speakers  recounted  an  achievement  of  his  own. 
At  a  time  when  there  was  a  large  bounty  on  crows,  he 
determined  to  destroy  two  old  birds  and  their  young 
ones  by  a  bold  coup  de  main.  Their  nest  was  in  the 
summit  of  an  old  pine  tree,  but  the  position  was  com 
manded  by  an  over-topping  hemlock ;  the  latter  he 
ascended,  and  daringly  sliding  down  a  dependant  branch, 
was  enabled  (mirabile  dictu  /)  to  seize  the  she-bird  on 
her  nest.  '  This  time,  for  once,  a  crow  was  caught  asleep 
in  the  day-time.  Breaking  both  her  wings,  he  threw 
her  to  the  ground,  and  her  hapless  offspring,  five  in 
number,  followed  after.  He  then  descended,  and  shot 
the  old  he  as  he  was  flying  round,  moaning  piteously  in 
his  paternal  agony.  No  Roman  victor  moving  though 
the  via  sacra  with  seven  kings  tft  his  chariot  wheels, 


CONCERNING  CROWS  AND  CAPE  ANN  JOKERS.    67 

felt  more  elation  of  heart  than  the  youthful  victor,  as  he 
carried  home  his  trophies  and  touched  the  tin  accorded 
by  way  of  laurels  by  the  state. 

I  have  told  you  that  Cape  Ann  furnished  a  number 
of  queer  jokers.  One  of  these  met  an  apothecary,  who 
was  his  especial  butt  at  one  of  the  '  town  meetings'  in 
Gloucester,  and  thus  hailed  him  in  the  hearing  of  a  large 
crowd  of  attentive  auditors  : 

"  Doctor !  that  'ere  ratsbane  of  your'n  is  first-rate." 

"  Know'd  it !  know'd  it,"  said  the  pleased  apothecary. 
"  Don't  keep  nothing  but  fust-rate  doctor's  stuff." 

"  And,  doctor,"  continued  the  joker,  coolly,  "  I  want 
to  buy  another  pound  of  ye." 

"  Another  pound  ?" 

"  Yes — sir — I  gin  that  pound  I  bought  the  other  day 
to  a  pesky  mouse — and  it  made  him  dreadful  sick — and 
I  am  pretty  sure  another  pound  would  kill  him." 

A  roar  of  laughter,  at  the  apothecary's  expense, 
hailed  this  grateful  tribute  to  the  excellence  of  his  doc 
tor's  stuff. 

There  was  a  queer  old  file,  as  tart  as  he  was  ignorant, 
who  was  one  day  starting  off  to  a  dedication  on  horse 
back,  with  his  old-maid  sister  on  the  pillion  behind  him. 

"  Hello !  Uncle  Seth !  where  you  goin'  ?"  said  a 
neighbour,  hailing  the  equestrian. 

"  Goin'  to  resurrection!" 

"  Dedication,  you  mean." 

"  Damnation  !  if  you  like  that  better  !  Hang  on,  Sal ! 
G'lang,  ye  jade  !"  and  the  old  mare  galloped  off. 

There  was  a  certain  lawyer  on  the  Cape  a  long  time 
ago,  the  only  one  in  those  '  digginV  then,  and,  for  aught 
I  know,  at  present.  He  was  a  man  well  to  do  in  the 


68 


STRAY    SUBJECTS. 


world,  and,  what  was  somewhat  surprising  in  a  limb  of 
the  law,  averse  to  encouraging  litigation. 

One  day  a  client  came  to  him  in  a  violent  rage. 

"  Look  a  here,  squire,"  said  he,  "  that  'ere  blasted 
shoemaker  down  to  Pigeon  Cove  has  gone  and  sued  me 
for  the  money  for  a  pair  of  boots  I  owed  him." 

"Did  the  boots  suit  you?" 

"  Oh  !  yes — I've  got  'em  on — fust-rate  boots." 

"Fair  price?" 

"  Oh !  yes." 

"  Then  you  owe  him  the  money  honestly?" 

"  'Course.'" 

"Well,  why  don't  you  pay  him?" 

"  Why,  'cause  the  blasted  snob  went  and  sued  me, 
and  I  want  to  keep  him  out  of  the  money  if  I  kin." 

"  It  will  cost  you  something." 

"  I  don't  keer  a  cuss  for  that.  How  much  money  do 
you  want  to  begin  with  ?" 

"  Oh,  ten  dollars  will  do." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  Well,  here's  a  X,  so  go  ahead,"  and 
the  client  went  off  very  well  satisfied  with  the  beginning. 

Our  lawyer  next  called  on  the  shoemaker,  and  asked 
him  what  he  meant  by  commencing  legal  proceedings 
against  M . 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  I  kept  on  sendin'  and  sendin'  to 
him  for  money  till  I  got  tired.  I  know'd  he  was  able 
to  pay — and  I  was  'termined  to  make  him.  That's  the 
long  and  short  of  it." 

"  Well,"  said  the  lawyer — "  he's  always  been  a  good 
customer  to  you,  and  I  think  you  acted  too  hastily. 
There's  a  trifle  to  pay  on  account  of  your  proceeding — 
but  I  think  you'd  better  take  this  five  dollars,  and  call 
it  all  square."' 


THE  'LEVEN  STRIKE.  69 

"  Certin — squire — if  you  say  so — and  darned  glad 
to  get  it,"  was  the  answer 

So  the  lawyer  forked  over  one  V  and  kept  the  other. 
In  a  few  days  his  client  came  along  and  asked  him  how 
he  got  on  with  his  case. 

"  Rapidly,"  cried  the  lawyer — "  we've  non-suited 
him !  he'll  never  trouble  you." 

"  Jerusalem !  that's  great !"  cried  the  client—"  I'd 
rather  a  gin  fifty  dollars  than  have  had  him  got  the 
money  for  them  boots !" 

F.  A.  D. 


THE  'LEVEN  STRIKE, 

OR, 

THE  GHOST  OF  THE  TEN-PIN  ALLEY: 

A  LEGEND  OF  PARK  HALL,  BOSTON. 

'TwAS  late,  and  midnight  darkness 
Hung  the  heavens  as  with  a  pall, 

When  the  OLD  'UN  came  to  handle 
Lignum  Vitas,  in  Park  Hall. 

And  with  him  a  companion 

To  roll  against  him  came, 
Superior  to  the  Ancient 

In  the  science  of  the  game. 


70  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

Dim  were  the  bar-room  lustres, 
Dark  shelves  dark  bottles  bore, 

Fantastic  were  the  shadows 
Projected  on  the  floor. 

Ah  me  !  a  weary   *  critter' 
Was  the  sad  barkeeper  then, 

Just  thinking  was  he  of  his  bed, 
When  entered  those  two  men. 

Then  out  and  spake  the  OLD  'UN — 
"  Rouse  up  and  get  the  key 

That  in  the  Diorama  Hall, 
Unlocks  the  west  Al-/ei/." 

"Our  boy  is  sick — has  cut  his  stick — 

Absquatulating  elf ! 
And  if  ye  roll  to-night,  ye'll  have 

To  set  'em  up  yourself." 

"  Small  work,  I  trow,"  the  OLD  'UN  said, 
"For  one  who  loves  the  game ;" 

And  he  who  stood  beside  him  there 
Smiled  and  endorsed  the  same. 

The  pins  are  set — the  fingers  wet — 
The  OLD  'UN  takes  his  stand ; 

Why  stands  he  hesitating  there, 
The  ball  within  his  hand  ? 

Say — comes  there  aught  of  evil 

Their  pleasure  to  alloy  ? 
All  suddenly  before  the  pins 

Loomed  up  the  ten-pin  boy. 


THE  'LEVEN  STRIKE.  71 

A  wan  and  dreary  wight  was  he — 

An  outline  of  a  boy — 
With  a  meagre  faded  jacket, 

And  pants  of  corduroy. 

"  Say,  boy !  why  come  you  here  so  late, 

Or  why  came  here  at  all  ? 
For  the  old  Bay  State  clear  the  track, 

Or  look  out  for  the  ball." 

He  never  moved,  that  urchin — 

Scarce  like  a  thing  alive, 
He  heeded  not  the  OLD  'UN'S  shout 

"  Be  warned,  for  I'll  let  drive  !" 

Right  through  his  faded  legs,  the  ball 

Went  winding  on  its  way — 
Right  towards  the  OLD  'UN  and  his  friend 

Glided  that  figure  gray. 

"  List,  gents,  to  me,"  the  boy  said  he  : 

"I  foller  not  the  trade 
I  did  afore  they  made  my  bed 

With  mattock  and  with  spade, 
And  I  was  took  to  my  last  home, 

And  in  the  dead  wood  laid. 

"  I  am  a  orphin,  for  my  dad 

A  nd  mam  died  long  ago, 
And  I  came  here  to  set  up  pins" • 

The  OLD  'UN  said,  «  Just  so." 


72  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  The  folks  was  very  kind  to  me — 

Life  rolled  on  like  a  ball  ; 
And  it  seemed  a  kind  of  Paradise, 

This  Diorama  Hall. 

t(  One  night  there  came  a  stranger — 

A  horrid  man  was  he — 
And  he  gave  his  name  as  Mister  Blood 

From  the  state  of  Tennessee. 

"  He  bolted  brandy  by  the  pint ; 

And  his  breath  it  was  so  strong 
It  broke  the  tumbler  when  he  drank, 

And  his  voice  was  like  a  gong. 

"  He  was  a  bully  roller — 

Spares,  ten-strikes, fast  as  rain 

Came  from  his  hand — (  Boy  !  set  'em  up  !' 
And  down  they  went  again. 

"  A  horrid  scowl  was  on  his  face — 

His  teeth  he  grimly  set — 
He  grasped  his  ball,  and  roared,  *  By  G —  i 

I  can  do  better  yet !' 

"  What  fearful  meaning  in  that  yell — 

I  never  heard  the  like — 
But  the  clock  it  struck  eleven, 

And  he  sot  a  'leven  strike. 


o 


"  Down  went  the  pins — up  flew  the  ball 

And  hit  me  on  the  head, 
And  quicker  than  greased  lightnin', 

My  covies,  I  was  dead. 


THE  'LEVEN  STRIKE.  73 

"  He  gloried  in  the  homicide ; — 

He  broke  into  a  roar, 
And  shouted  that  he'd  done  the  same 

Eleven  times  before. 

• 

;<<Ho!  landlord!  there's  a  flimsy— 

Come,  don't  be  cross  or  coy — 
Ten  dollars  for  your  alley 

And  ninety  for  your  boy  !' 

"  But  guilty  conscience  haunted  him, 

He  roamed  o'er  land  and  sea ; — 
Sometimes  he  was  in  Florida, 

Sometimes  in  Tennessee. 

"  And  never  from  that  moment 

Knew  he  an  hour  of  joy — 
Till  he  was  gouged  and  bit  to  death 

In  a  fight  in  Illinois. 

"  To  warn  the  bowlers  here  each  night 
With  spectral  strength  I've  striven— 
Be  satisfied  with  a  ten-strike, 
Nor  seek  to  get  eleven." 

He  ceased,  then  glided  backward, 

That  little  phantom  boy, 
With  his  wan  sepulchral  jacket 

And  tights  of  corduroy. 

The  twinkle  of  his  buttons 

Was  lost  in  wreaths  of  mist 
That  drifted  through  the  casement 

By  the  ghostly  moonbeams  kissed, 


74 


STRAY    SUBJECTS. 


The  OLD  'UN  told  the  story, 

But  few  believed  the  tale — 
Few  hearts  throbbed  faster  for  it, 

Few  lovely  cheeks  grew  pale. 

But  hie  you  to  the  alley — 

Ask  the  ten-pin  boys  there  met — 

They'll  tell  you  there  the  ghost  was  seen 
There  you'll  find  spirits  yet. 

A.  D.  F. 


THE  "  STAR-SPANGLED  BANNER." 

M.  BOCHSA,  the  Harpist,  is  a  wag.  At  the  concert 
on  Thursday  night,  at  the  Temple,  Mons.  B.  appeared 
before  the  audience  for  the  second  time  during  the  even 
ing's  performance,  for  the  purpose  of  playing  any  airs 
the  audience  might  select,  with  impromptu  embellish 
ments  and  variations.  M.  Bochsa  is  a  master  of  his 
instrument,  and  the  harp  in  his  hands  is  susceptible  of 
almost  anything,  in  reason — but  it  might  seem  a  question 
of  taste,  whether  martial  hymns  are  exactly  the  thing 
to  display  the  beauties  of  a  harp.  However,  we  are 
a  f  democratic'  people,  and  Mons.  B.,  albeit  he  is  a 
wag,  understands  the  principle . 

"  You  will  plees  send  me  ze  tune  vot  I  sal  play" — 
proposed  Monsieur  to  his  audience,  as  he  came  upon  the 
platform. 

Half  a  dozen  strips  of  paper  immediately  found  their 
way  to  the  stand,  and  Monsieur  B.  read  them  aloud, 


THE    "STAR-SPANGLED   BANNER."  75 

" «  O  Dolce  Concento/ — '  Yankee  DoodiP— (I  know 
him,  vera  veil.  I  play  him  one,  two,  tree — several 
time!)  —  <  Groves  O'Blarney,'  —  «  Yankee  Doo' —  (I 
have  two  Yankee  Doodils,)  '  Non  piu  mesta,' —  Tres 
lien!" 

"  The  S tar-Spangled  Banner  !"  shouted  somebody 
in  the  crowd. 

"  Vot  you  sai  ?"  inquired  Bochsa. 

"  Star-Spangled  Banner  !" 

Monsieur  didn't  understand.  He  was  a  little  hard 
of  hearing.  He  stepped  quietly  down  from  the  ros 
trum,  and  approached  one  of  the  aisles. 

"  Ze  zhentilman  vil  plees  to  step  to  ze  front" — but 
the  stranger  declined. 

"  If  ze  zhentilman  cannot  come  to  me,  I  mus'  come 
to  him,"  continued  Monsieur. 

The  audience  took  l  the  cue' — and  a  roar  followed 
this  announcement,  pending  which  the  stranger  made 
his  appearance.  A  round  of  applause  greeted  him  as 
he  passed  to  the  foot  of  the  passage-way,  where  stood 
Monsieur  in  an  attitude  most  provokingly  grave,  wait 
ing  for  further  explanation. 

"  Vot  you  sai,  sair?" 

"  The  Star-Spangled  Banner,  I  want." 

"  Scar-tangle  bannair  ? — aha, — N'comprende,  mon 
sieur." 

"  Not  Scar-Strangled,  sir — Star-Spangled  Banner." 

"  Ze  Bannair— Oui— I  un'erstan'— Ze  flag!" 

"  Yes,  yes— the  Flag  of  the  United  States." 

"  Yes,  sair !  I  remember  him,  ver'  mooch.  Zat  is, 
I  do  not  recollec'  him,  zac'ly.  Monsieur,  you  know 
him?" 


76  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  Why,  yes,  to  be  sure — everybody  knows  the  c  Star- 
Spangled  Banner.'  ' 

"  Tres  bien,  monsieur !  Every  Yankee  zhentilman 
vissle.  You  sal  vissle  him  in  my  ear  /" 

Another  shout  went  up  from  the  audience,  but  the 
gentleman,  nothing  abashed,  placed  his  mouth  at  the 
side  of  Bochsa's  head,  and  commenced  whistling  the 
*  Star-Spangled  Banner'  most  philosophically,  amid  the 
convulsions  of  the  audience,  who  could  not  find  this 
scene  upon  the  bills  of  the  evening  ! 

"TRES  BIEN  —  Monsieur!"  shouted  Bochsa — "ele 
gant — superb  !  Monsieur,  you  von  ver'  fine  musician —  I 
sal  play  ze  Scar-Tangled  Bannair,  vis  mooch  plaisur !"' 
— and  mounting  the  platform,  he  commenced  with  a 
grand  introduction  to  the  several  themas  proposed, 
which  was  followed  by  some  highly  finished  and  ex 
quisitely  performed  variations  upon  the  melodies  sent 
up,  not  forgetting  the  two  *  Yankee  Doodils'— always 
so  certain  a  favourite. 

On  a  sudden — a  crash  of  harmony  leaped  from  the 
harp-strings,  which  took  the  audience  by  surprise !  An 
instant's  rest  followed — when  our  own  beautiful  nation 
al  air,  the  *  Star-Spangled  Banner,'  was  produced  with 
a  most  brilliant  accompaniment,  which  '  brought  down 
the  house.' 

Bochsa  was  satisfied — his  friend  was  satisfied — the 
audience  were  satisfied — and  the  splendid  Harpist  left 
the  stage  (with  a  quiet  smirk  at  the  corner  of  his 
mouth)  amid  a  perfect  storm  of  applause  ! 

G.  P.  B. 


A  STEER  RIDE. 

MOVING  down  Washington  street  the  other  day  with 
a  friend,  the  sight  of  the  flying  sleighs  reminded  him  of 
a  juvenile  adventure  of  his  own  when  he  was  a  younker 
long  time  ago,  and  Gilmanton,  N.  H.,  was  blessed  with 
his  presence.  Happening  to  call  on  a  crony  of  his,  a 
farmer's  son,  one  afternoon,  the  gentleman  who,  the 
hymn-book  tells  us, 

"Finds  some  Mischief  still, 
For  idle  hands  to  do," 

suggested  to  them  the  idea  of  having  a  ride  in  the  c  go- 
to-meetin' '  sleigh,  with  an  unbroken  steer  of  the  farm 
er's  for  a  team.  Our  friend  with  some  difficulty 
persuaded  his  acquaintance  to  enter  into  the  scheme,  but 
when  his  scruples  were  once  overcome,  he  (  went  it 
with  a  vindictive  rush.'  The  boys  secretly  got  out  the 
sleigh  and  '  toted'  it  through  the  snow  for  a  distance 
of  two  miles,  where  they  left  it.  The  snow  was  deep — 
over  the  fence-rails  in  some  places,  and  the  preliminary 
achievement  cost  them  no  little  labour.  This  done,  they 
went  back  for  the  animal.  The  '  critter'  was  found 
quietly  consuming  clover  in  an  out-house,  and  not  in 
the  happiest  humour  at  being  disturbed.  In  fact  he 
was  ( mighty  handy  with  his  horns,'  as  an  Irishman 
would  say,  and  had  a  most  ( fatal  facility'  for  butting. 
However,  his  tormentors  took  him,  one  on  each  side, 


78  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

grasped  him  by  the  horns,  and  persuaded  him  along  by 
means  of  an  ox-goad.  Now  and  then  he  would  make  a 
stand  and  struggle  fiercely.  But  they  hung  on  to  him, 
'like  Mortality  to  a  deceased  African,'  as  my  friend 
expressed  it,  determined  not  to  give  out.  It  took  them 
two  hours  to  get  the  steer  up  to  the  sleigh.  There 
another  battle  royal  ensued  when  it  came  to  putting  him 
in  the  fills.  Talk  about  taming  Bucephalus !  Pooh  ! 
that  was  nothing  to  harnessing  an  angry  steer  to  a 
single  sleigh.  He  did  not  take  it  kindly  at  all — but  he 
had  to  take  it.  The  youthful  muscle  and  youthful 
ingenuity  of  a  pair  of  human  torments  overcame  the 
brute  rage  and  blind  strength  of  the  animal.  At  last 
they  noosed  him  and  indulged  in  an  Indian  yell  of 
triumph !  Off  went  the  liberated  brute,  howling  with 
rage.  Talk  of  a  locomotive  at  full  speed,  pshaw  !  That 
is  a  tortoise  to  a  mad  steer.  The  '  critter'  took  a  bee 
line  for  home.  The  snow  flew  like  the  spray  from 
Niagara.  The  boys  were  pelted  with  ice-balls  from  his 
flying  hoofs.  The  icicles  showered  from  the  limbs  of 
the  apple  trees,  as  they  dashed  through  an  orchard. 
Two  pannels  of  fence-rails  went  into  '  tarnal  smash'  as 
they  took  the  outside  of  the  track  in  a  narrow  cart-path. 
One  side  of  the  sleigh  was  left  in  a  dung-heap.  Nothing 
but  the  dasher  held  on  as  they  went  through  the  last 
pair  of  bars,  and  the  steer  dashed  his  head  against  the 
barn-door,  and  rolled  over,  dead  beat,  in  a  snow  heap. 
Our  friend  jumped  off  the  runners  and  made  tracks  for 
his  home,  just  as  the  farmer,  rushing  out  of  the  house, 
whip  in  hand,  cornered  his  precocious  boy  as  he  was 
rising  from  the  wreck,  and  gave  him,  as  the  sufferer 


THE    WOLVERINE    AND    THE    LEAD    MINE.  79 

averred  next  day,  the    '  onremittenist  lickin'  that  was 
ever  larruped  onto  him  since  he  was  a  human  beinV* 

Our  friend  has  often  been  a  sleighing  since,  with 
splendid  teams  and  pretty  girls,  and  glorious  music  and 
moonlight  nights,  but  he  declares  upon  his  honour,  that 
not  all  of  these  can  equal  half  the  excitement  of  a  sleigh- 
fjde  across  the  country  with  a  mad  steer  in  the  fills. 

F.  A.  D. 


HOW  THE  WOLVERINE  DISCOVERED  THE 
LEAD  MINE.— A  FACT. 

[  WAS  a  c  young'  man  ten  years  ago — and  (like  some 
o',her  young  men  I  wot  of,  who  did  the  same  thing,  and 
returned  lighter  than  they  went !)  I  drifted  out  West. 
My  locale  for  the  time  being  was  in  the  easterly  part 
of  Michigan,  but  I  once  ventured  westward  as  far  as 
Wisconsin. 

There  is  a  swarm  of  ( suckers,'  'hoosiers,'  *  buckeyes,' 
1  corn-crackers/  and  *  wolverines,'  eternally  on  the  qui 
vive,  in  those  parts — a  migratory  race  of  bipeds — who 
float  about  from  spot  to  spot,  '  squatting,'  for  trte  nonce, 
wherever  their  fancy  or  interest  may  incline  them  ;  and 
a  rougher  set  of  men  will  rarely  be  met  with,  saving 
the  genuine  '  voyageurs,'  or  ( trappers' — so  notorious 
for  their  hardihood. 

A  '  green'  looking  individual  turned  up  suddenly  one 
morning  in  the  vicinity  of  a  backwoods  mining  settle 
ment,  and,  according  to  his  own  account,  he  had  come 
from  a  *  desperate  ways  off'  in  search  of  'sunthin  to  du.' 


80  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

A  linsey-wolsey  jacket,  considerably  the  worse  for 
wear,  was  slung  over  his  shoulder  ;  his  pants  were  made 
of  tow-cloth  ;  a  pair  of  coarse  cow-hide  brogans  orna 
mented  his  feet,  and  the  gear  which  protected  (?)  his 
head  might  have  answered  an  excellent  turn  to  sift  ashes 
through ;  in  brief,  his  tout  ensemble  looked  very  like 
the  *  breaking  up  of  a  hard  winter.'  ^ 

He  sauntered  leisurely  up  to  a  knot  of  workmen,  and 
drawing  from  his  side-pocket  a  huge  soft  cracker,  he 
commenced  munching  it — solus. 

"  'Mornin',  stranger,"  said  one  of  the  hands,  at 
length. 

"  Mornin'  yourself,  cap'n." 

"  Which  way  ?" 

"  None  in  partic'lar." 

"  Well,  stranger,  where  do  you  hail  from  ?" 

"  Wai 1  hails  from  all  raound  the  lot." 

"  From  the  East'ard  ?" 

"Wai— yes 1  reckon." 

"What  news?" 

u  None — as  I  knows  on." 

"  You're  short,— kinder." 

"  Wai ;  you'll  find  me  long  enough — p-ehaps." 

The  Conversation  was  suspended  ;  the  wolverine  con 
tinued  to  munch  his  biscuit,  and  the  miners  pursued 
their  labours.  But  the  biscuit  finally  disappeared,  and 
the  stranger,  who  had  taken  considerable  interest  in 
their  operations,  had  approached  within  speaking  dis 


tance  again. 


"  Wai ;  they  du  say  the  Bank's  busted ." 

"What  bank?"  bawled  an  operative,  dropping  his 
spade  and  looking  about  him  for  a  land-slide ! 


THE    WOLVERINE    AND    THE    LEAD    MINE.  81 

"  'Nited  States  Bank." 

"  O  !  is  that  all  ?    Why,  how  you  skeert  a  feller !" 

"  Some  of  'em,  will  get  skeered,  wus  en  that,  I  reck- 
'n,  afore  they're  through  with  it." 

Again  the  talk  ceased.  The  wolverine  watched  the 
progress  of  the  workmen,  and  finally  laid  his  jacket 
upon  the  bank. 

"  S'pose  you  don't  want  another  hand" 

"No." 

"  No  ;  I  thought  not." 

Here  one  of  the  party,  in  a  green  roundabout,  who 
imagined  himself  considerably  more  than  a  match  for 
half  a  score  like  the  green  'un — and  who  appeared  like 
overseer  of  the  gang — proposed  to  him  that  he  should 
pay  scot  for  the  ciowd,  and  he  would  then  show  him 
where  he  could  set  up  the  '  diggin'  trade'  on  his  own 
account ! 

"  Done,"  said  the  wolverine. 

"  Drinks  all  around — mind." 

"  Sartin.  Jest  fetch  on  your  (  prary  dew'  foi  the 
hull  lot,  and  d the  expense." 

A  capacious  caddy  of  the  crature  was  procured,  and 
the  party  had  a  jolly  time  at  the  cost  of  the  new  comer. 
The  liquor  disposed  of,  he  asked  the  direction  to  the  site 
where  he  should  commence  operations. 

"  Well,  stranger,"  said  the  knowing  one,  with  a  side 
wink  to  his  men,  "  begin  any  whar ;  try  under  the  old 
tree  yonder." 

"  The  big  shady  tree,  across  the  lot,  there  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Thank  ye.     It  looks  like  a  right  smart  spot/' 


82  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  Hope  you'll  have  a  good  time  of  it,"  added  the 
overseer,  and  the  parties  separated. 

The  wolverine  went  at  it  in  right  g»od  earnest,  with 
a  borrowed  £  pick,'  and  long  before  sunset  (as  luck 
would  have  it)  he  '  struck  a  Lead  /'  Having  satisfied 
himself  in  reference  to  the  location,  he  covered  up  hi? 
tracks,  and  returned  to  the  lead  mine. 

"  Say,  cap'n ;  you're  rayther  hard  on  a  poor  feller." 

"  Eh  !  What  luck,  stranger  ?" 

"  Luck.,  you  said  !  Wai,  I  dont  know  what  you  call 
luck.  I've  been  sweatin'  over  thar,  about  ten  hours ; 
a  hull  day  lost  smack ;  and  not  a  red  cent  made  yet." 

"  Oh,  try  again,"  said  the  sharp  'un  ;   "  you'll  do." 

"  Wai,  may  be  so,  and  may  be  not.  Whar's  the 
owner  o'  that  are  patch  ?" 

"  I  own  this  land,  all  about." 

"  Maybe  you  wouldn't  like  to  sell  that  are  lot  ?" 

"  But  I  should,  though." 

"  Wot'll  you  take  for  that  lot  ?"     x 

"  Oh,  you  may  have  it  at  Government  price ;  there's 
eighty  acres." 

"  I'll  take  that  lot,  Mr.  Wot-you-call-em." 

"You  will?" 

"  Yes,  Mister  ;  and  yere's  yer  'putty  /' ' 

As  our  wolverine  pronounced  this  last  sentence,  he 
drew  forth  a  ragged  bandana,  in  one  corner  of  which 
was  stowed  away  a  goodly  quantum  of  the  '  shiners.' 
The  hundred  dollars  was  soon  told  out ;  the  parties  im 
mediately  repaired  to  the  Land  Office,  where  Squire  P. 
made  the  deed  of  transfer,  and  the  document  was  placed 
in  the  stranger's  hands. 

On  his  way  back,  he  passed  a  crowd  of  the  miners, 


A    YANKEE    ADMINISTRATOR.  83 

who  had  done  laughing,  and  shortly  afterwards  he  was 
out  of  sight.  Next  morning,  bright  and  early,  the  wol 
verine  was  at  work  under  that  tree,  with  two  assist 
ants  ;  and  by  noontime  a  very  showy  vein  of  ore  had 
come  to  light,  within  a  few  feet  of  the  ground's  surface. 
The  stranger  laughed  then ! — the  miners  grinned,  and 
the  lucky  buyer  disappeared,  again. 

Four  weeks  afterwards,  a  countryman  in  plain  home 
spun,  accompanied  by  a  '  gentleman  in  black,3  visited 
the  spot;  and  they,  too,  wrent  to  Squire  P.'s  of 
fice.  Another  transfer  was  made,  and  the  awkward 
wolverine,  of  the  tattered  breeches  and  torn  hat,  left  his 
purchase  in  other  hands,  with  a  bonus  of  Jive  thousand- 
dollars  in  his  pocket ! 

The  last  I  saw  of  the  rough  stranger,  he  wras  inqui 
ring  of  the  overseer  in  the  green  roundabout,  whether 
he  had  for  sale  "  any  more  left  of  the  same  sort  /" 

G.  P.  B. 


A  YANKEE  ADMINISTRATOR. 

A  FRIEND  of  ours  related,  the  other  day,  an  anecdote, 
for  the  authenticity  of  which  he  positively  vouched.  'It 
relates  to  a  very  shrewd  Yankee  of  the  Sam  Slick  school, 
who  formerly  kept  a  slop-shop  in  the  classic  purlieus  of 
Ann  street,  and  drove  a  snug  and  thriving  business, 
contriving,  by  constant  attention  to  trade,  and  strict 
adherence  to  the  cash  principle,  to  do  something  more 
than  make  both  ends  meet  in  the  course  of  the  year. 


84  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

He  boasted  that  he  "  was  never  tuck  in  but  once,  and 
then  he  came  out  of  it  fust-rate."  The  only  exception 
he  made  to  his  cash  principle  was  in  favour  of  a  very 
dark-coloured  gentleman  who  ( follered  the  sea  for  a 
livin','  and  who  happened  to  be  in  want  of  a  professional 
blue  jacket  adorned  with  an  unusual  quantity  of  black 
glass  buttons,  value  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents.  The 
sable  mariner  stated  that  he  had  just  got  into  port,  should 
be  paid  off  next  day,  and  would  then  infallibly  '  call 
and  settle.'  The  Yankee  let  him  have  the  jacket,  and 
charged  him  with  the  amount.  The  next  day  came, 
and  the  next,  and  the  next,  and  brought  no  coloured 
gentleman.  The  Yankee  clothes-dealer  began  to  feel 
uneasy.*  To  be  taken  in  the  first  time  he  *  trusted/ 
was  an  event  never  anticipated  in  his  calculation  of  the 
chances.  He  made  inquiries,  and  found  that  he  had 
been  '  regularly  taken  in  and  done  for.'  Instead  of 
his  customer  having  just  arrived  in  port,  he  had  sailed 
on  a  nine-months'  voyage  the  day  after  he  had  obtained 
'  tick,'  or,  as  Varnish  says,  in  the  new  comedy,  (  ac 
commodation.'  In  a  desperate  rage,  the  Yankee  took 
'  account  of  stock,'  and  marked  up  all  the  blue  jackets 
with  glass  buttons  at  25  per  cent,  advance. 

From  that  time  the  Yankee  was  a  constant  reader  of 
the  daily  journals,  confining  his  attention,  however, 
principally  to  the  *  Marine  Intelligence'  and  '  Shipping 
List.'  Not  a  storm  rippled  the  face  of  the  ocean  but 
roused  the  attention  of  our  shop-keeper.  Not  a  ship 
was  spoken  at  sea,  but  he  learned  her  name  as  soon  as 
possible.  At  length  the  signal-gun  of  the  *  Venus' 
(that  was  the  name  of  the  delinquent  African's  craft) 
announced  her  arrival  from  Canton  in  the  lower  harbour, 


A    YANKEE    ADMINISTRATOR.  85 

and  the  flag  on  the  telegraph  station  at  Central  wharf 
speedily  confirmed  the  news.  Our  Yankee  was  on  the 
qui  vive.  He  hastened  to  the  owners,  to  serve  a  trustee 
process  to  secure  his  debt,  and  there  learned,  with  blank 
dismay,  that  his  sable  debtor  had  died  of  the  small  pox 
directly  on  the  arrival  of  the  ship,  and  was  buried,  with 
his  chest  of  clothes,  on  Hospital  Island.  No  money 
could  be  paid  on  his  account  except  to  a  legally-em 
powered  administrator.  After  cogitating  awhile,  jthe 
Yankee  repaired  to  the  Judge  of  Probate  for  the  County 
of  Suffolk,  and  applied  for  letters  of  administration. 
After  the  due  publication  of  official  notice,  no  heir  or 
creditor  appearing,  the  Yankee  was  duly  authorized  to 
receive  payment  of  moneys  due  to  the  deceased.  The 
pretty  sum  of  108  dollars  was  accordingly  paid  over  to 
him.  Two  or  three  years  passed  on,  no  claimant  ap 
peared,  and  the  tailor  rejoiced  exceedingly  in  the  bril 
liant  upshot  of  the  speculation. 

One  day,  however,  as  he  was  sitting  at  his  window, 
calmly  smoking  a  '  long  nine,'  and  ruminating  on  some 
other  c  speculation,'  whom  should  he  see,  walking 
quietly  along  on  the  opposite  side-walk,  but  the  identical 
coloured  gentleman  who  had  negotiated  with  him  three 
years  before,  arrayed  in  the  identical  blue  jacket,  orna 
mented  with  countless  black  glass  buttons,  but  very 
much  the  worse  for  wear.  At  first  he  was  '  taken  all 
aback,'  much  as  Macbeth  was  at  the  unwelcome  appa 
rition  of  the  c  blood-boltered'  Banquo  at  the  festive 
board.  A  few  moments'  reflection,  however,  reassured 
him,  and,  springing  over  the  counter,  he  rushed  forth 
into  the  street.  At  this  moment  the  negro  raised  his 
eyes  and  beheld  the  well-remembered  sign,  and  with  it 


86  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

flashed  back  on  his  mind  a  startling  reminiscence  of  his 
own  indebtedness.  He  also  recognised  the  injured 
Yankee.  His  face  became  mottled  with  terror.  He 
turned  and  fled.  "  Stop  thief!"  shouted  the  Yankee,  as 
he  dashed  after  him  in  hot  pursuit.  "  Stop  thief!"  re 
peated  the  crowd.  It  was  an  exciting  chase.  Up  flew 
windows,  and  out  flew  heads.  Cellars  subterranean 
disgorged  their  motley  living  tenants.  Sailors,  steva- 
dores,  dogs,  boys,  girls,  and  even  women,  rushed  along, 
stimulated  by  the  eager  cries  of  the  Yankee.  Far  in 
the  van,  however,  fled  the  panting  negro,  like  a  dark 
shadow,  distancing  pursuit.  "  If  I  only  had  a  catched 
him,"  said  the  tailor  to  his  foreman  as  he  re-entered  his 
low-browed  shop,  "  I'd  a  made  him  pay  me  that  two 
dollars  and  fifty  cents,  with  interest  to  date." 

The  key  to  the  apparition  was  afterwards  discovered. 
It  seems  that  the  negro,  on  reaching  his  destined  port, 
had  run  away,  and  another  hand  (also  coloured)  had 
been  shipped  in  his  stead,  the  name,  however,  remaining 
unaltered  on  the  ship's  books.  The  second  coloured 
gentleman  it  was,  who,  on  his  arrival  in  port,  paid  the 
debt  of  nature,  and  also  more  than  paid,  by  his  wages, 
the  debt  incurred  by  his  predecessor  in  the  forecastle  of 
the  *  Venus.' 

Although  the  Yankee,  to  use  his  own  language,  "came 
out  of  that  'ere  spec  fust-rate,"  yet,  to  his  dying  day, 
he  never  ceased  to  lament  that  "  he  hadn't  cotched  that 
'ere  nigger,  and  made  him  face  that  $2.50,  with  interest 
to  date." 

F.  A.  D. 


THE  STEAMBOAT  CAPTAIN  WHO  WAS 
AVERSE  TO  RACING. 

EARLY  in  the  spring  of  the  present  year,  a  magnifi 
cent  new  steamer  was  launched  upon  the  Ohio  River, 
and  shortly  afterward  made  her  appearance  at  the  Le 
vee,  opposite  the  flourishing  city  of  Cincinnati.  Gilt- 
edged  covers,  enveloping  the  captain's  c  respects, ' 
accompanied  with  invitations  to  '  see  her  through,'  upon 
her  first  trip  down  the  river,  being  forwarded  to  the  edi 
torial  corps  in  that  vicinity ;  the  chalked  hats  were 
'  numerous'  on  the  occasion.  It  was  a  grand  affair, 
this  debut  of  a  floating  palace,  which  has  since  main 
tained  her  repute  untarnished  as  the  (  crack  boat,'  par 
excellence,  upon  the  Western  waters.  Your  humble  ser 
vant  was  among  the  ( invited  guests' — and  a  nice  time 
he  had  of  it ! 

I  found  myself  on  board  this  beautiful  craft  in  '  close 
communion'  with  a  score  of  unquestionable  '  beauties.' 
The  company  proved  to  be  a  heterogenous  conglome 
ration  of  character — made  up  of  editors,  lawyers,  auc 
tioneers,  indescribables,  and  '  fancies' — with  a  sprink 
ling  of  '  none-such' s'  There  was  a  stray  parson,  too, 
in  the  crowd — but  as  his  leisure  time '  between  meetins' 
was  spent  in  trading  horses,  we  dispensed  with  his 
*  grace  before  meals.' 

We  left  our  moorings  an  hour  before  sunset,  upon  a 
clear  cold  afternoon,  and  passed  rapidly  down  stream 


88  STUAY    SUBJECTS. 

for  a  considerable  distance,  without  experiencing  any 
out-of-the-way  occurrence.  The  *  sons  of  temperance,' 
and  the  parson  aforesaid,  amused  themselves  over  a 
smoking  whiskey  toddy — the  *  boys'  were  relieving 
each  other  of  their  superfluous  dimes  and  quarters  at 
euchre,  when  a  tall  gentleman,  who  was  '  some,'  (when 
he  was  sober,)  stepped  suddenly  into  the  cabin,  and 
imparted  the  information  that  a  well-known  '  fast  boat' 
had  just  hove  in  sight,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Kentucky 
river.  The  cards  were  (  dropt'  instanter — the  punches 
disappeared — and  the  *  mourners'  were  soon  distrib 
uted  in  knots  upon  the  promenade  deck,  to  watch  the 
progress  of  events. 

Our  '  bully'  boat  sped  awray  like  a  bird,  however, 
and  the  craft  behind  gave  us  early  evidence  that  she 
should  offer  no  child's  play.  The  'fat  was  in  the 
fire'  at  once — a  huge  column  of  black  smoke  curled 
up  in  the  clear  atmosphere — an  extra  turn  or  two  was 
visible  upon  our  own  boat,  and  away  we  went !  A 
good  deal  of  excitement  existed  among  the  party,  as 
the  rival  steamer  was  clearly  gaining  upon  us.  A  craft 
like  ours,  with  such  a  company,  and  such  a  captain, 
mustn't  be  beaten. 

As  the  boat  behind  us  fell  in  under  our  stern,  and  we 
could  l  count  her  passengers,'  a  sort  of  impression 
came  over  us,  that,  by  some  mistake,  we  had  got  upon 
the  wrong  boat !  At  least,  such  was  the  expressed 
opinion  of  the  parson,  as  he  threatened  to  '  go  down 
stairs'  and  take  another  drink.  Our  captain  was  a 
noble  fellow — he  paced  the  deck  quietly,  with  a  con 
stant  eye  to  wind'ard ;  but  he  said  nothing.  A  bevy 
of  the  mourners  stepped  up  to  him,  with — — 


THE   CAPTAIN    WHO   WAS   AVERSE  TO  RACING.         89 

"What  speed,  cap'n?" 

"  Fair,  gentlemen ;  I  may  say  very  fair." 

"  Smart  craft,  that,  behind,"  ventured  one. 

"  Very,"  responded  the  captain,  calmly,  as  he  placed 
his  hand  upon  a  small  brass  knob  at  the  back  of  the 
pilot  house.  This  movement  was  responded  to  by  the 
faint  jingling  of  a  bell  below,  followed  immediately  by 
a  rush  of  cinders  from  the  smoke-pipes,  and  an  im 
proved  action  of  the  paddles. 

"  Now  we  move  again." 

"  Some,"  was  the  response,  and  a  momentary  tremor 
pervaded  the  boat  as  she  '  slid  along*  right  smartly. 

But  the  craft  in  our  rear  moved  like  our  shadow  on 
the  calm  waters,  and  as  we  shot  down  the  river,  it 
seemed  as  if  we  had  her  '  in  tow,'  so  calmly  and  uni 
formly  did  she  follow  in  our  wake.  The  excitement  of 
the  congregation  upon  deck  had  by  this  time  become 
intense,  and  it  was  pretty  plain  that  the  boats  must 
shortly  part  company,  or  '  split  something !'  The  ras- 
ca-1  behind  us  took  advantage  of  a  turn  in  the  channel, 
and  '  helm  a-starboard  !'  was  clearly  heard  from  the 
look-out  of  our  rival,  as  she  ( hove  off,'  and  suddenly 
fell  alongside  us  !  The  parson  went  below  at  once,  to 
put  his  threat  into  execution,  as  we  came  up  into  the 
current  again,  '  neck  and  neck  ;'  and  when  he  returned 
we  were  running  a  twerity-five-knot  lick,  the  steam 
smack  on  to  49°  ! 

"  She's  going — goin',  go ,"  muttered  an  auction 
eer  to  himself. 

"  A  perfect  nonsuit,"  remarked  a  lawyer. 

"  Beaten  but  not  vanquished,"  added  a  politician ; 
and  away  we  scudded  side  by  side  for  half  a  mile. 


90  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  Wouldn't  she  bear  a  leetle  more  ?"  meekly  asked 
the  parson. 

"She's  doing  very  well,"  replied  the  captain. 
"Don't  get  excited,  gentlemen ;  my  boat  is  a  new 
one — her  reputation  and  mine  is  at  stake.  We  mustn't 
rush  her — racing  always  injures  a  boat,  and  I  am  averse 
to  it;"  saying  which  he  applied  his  thumb  and  finger 
to  the  brass  knob  again — the  bell  tinkled  in  the  dis 
tance — and  our  rival  pilot  shortly  had  an  opportunity  to 
examine  the  architecture  of  our  rudder-post ! 

I  was  acquainted  with  the  engineer.  I  stepped 
below  (believing  we  should  be  beaten  at  our  present 
speed),  and  entering  the  engine-room — 

"  Tim,"  said  I,  "  we'll  be  licked — give  her  another 
turn,  eh  ?" 

"  I  rayther  think  she  moves  some  as  it  is,"  said  Tim. 

"  Yes :  but  the  C is  hard  on  us — give  her  a  little, 

my  boy — just  for " 

"  Step  in  here  a  moment,"  remarked  Tim  ;  "  it's  all 
'  mum,'  you  know — nothing  to  be  said,  eh  ?  Quiet — 
there  ! — don't  she  tremble  some  ?" 

I  noticed,  for  the  first  time,  that  our  boat  did  labour 
prodigiously  ! 

"  But  come  round  here,"  continued  Tim ;  "  look 
there  ! — mum's  the  word,  you  know." 

I  stepped  out  of  that  engine-room  (Tim  said  after 
wards,  that  I  "  sprang  out  at  one  bound ;"  but  he  lied  !) 
in  a  hurry.  The  solder  upon  the  connexion-pipe  had 
melted  and  run  down  over  the  seams  in  a  dozen  places, 
from  the  excessive  heat — a  crowbar  was  braced  athwart 
the  safety-valve,  with  a  '  fifty-six'  upon  one  end — and 
we  were  shooting  down  the  Ohio,  under  a  head  of  steam 
'  chock  up'  to  54  40  ! ! 


"I  stepped  out  of  that  engine-room   (Tim  s;ii<l  afterwards,  that  I  'sprang  out 
at  one  bouud  ;'  but  lit-  lied  !)  in  a  hurry." — PayeW. 


THE    CAPTAIN    WHO    WAS    AVERSE    TO    RACING.          91 

My  'sleeping  apartment'  was  well  aft.  I  entered 
the  state-room — got  over  upon  the  back  side  of  my 
berth — and,  stuffing  the  corners  of  the  pillow  into  my 
ears,  endeavoured  to  compose  myself  in  sleep.  It  was 
out  of  the  question.  In  attempting  to  '  right  myself,' 
I  discovered  that  my  hair  stuck  out  so  straight)  it  was 
impossible  for  me  to  get  my  head  within  six  inches  of 
the  pillow  ! 

I  tossed  about  till  daylight,  in  momentary  expectation 
of  being  landed  in  Kentucky,  (or  somewhere  else !)  but 
we  got  on  finely.  We  led  our  rival  half  an  hour  into 
Louisville  ;  and  I  immediately  swore  upon  my  nightcap 
that  I  would  never  accept  another  invitation,  for  a  plea 
sure  trip,  from  a  steamboat  Captain  who  was  averse  fo 
racing  ! 


A  WINDFALL  FOR  THE  'YOUNG  'UN.' 


ORIGINAL  CORRESPONDENCE. 

[To  appreciate  the  following  correspondence,  it  may  be  necessary 
to  know  that  some  seven  years  since  a  person  by  the  name  of  BURN- 
.HAM  died  in  London  without  a  will,  leaving  an  immense  property 
behind  htm — estimated  at  some  millions  sterling  in  value.  The 
news  reached  this  country,  and  the  Burnhams  were,  consequently, 
in  high  feather  in  reference  to  their  prospect !  An  agent  was  chosen 
to  look  after  the  property  in  Europe,  the  story  went  the  rounds  of 
the  press,  and  a  variety  of  genealogies  and  pedigrees  were  forwarded 
to  London.  It  all  ended  in  smoke,  however;  no  satisfactory  legal 
proof  having  been  found  that  the  Burnham  in  England  ever  <  be 
longed'  to  anybody  this  side  the  water.  A  few  days  ago  an  eminent 
legal  gentleman  of  this  city,  (who  has  been  engaged  by  some  of  the 
parties  interested  to  ferret  the  matter  out,)  addressed  letters  again 
to  all  the  supposed  heirs ;  thus  renewing  the  old  story  about  the 
*  Burnham  fortune.'  Our  *  Young  'Un'  received  a  copy  of  this 
communication,  which  we  annex,  with  his  reply. — Ed.  'Spirit  of 
the  Times.'] 

(COPY.) 

NEW  YORK,  Nov.  4,  1846. 

Dear  Sir — I  am  desirous  of  ascertaining  whether 
you  are  in  any  wise  related  to  Mr.  John  G.  Burnham 
(of  England),  who  was  lost  at  sea,  some  fifty  or  sixty 
years  ago  ?  or  are  you  of  the  family  of  Orrin  Burnham, 
an  Englishman,  who  came  to  this  country  somewhere 
from  1785  to  1787  ?  Be  good  enough  at  your  earliest 
leisure  to  inform  me,  if  you  are  so  connected — and  at 
the  same  time  send  me  the  names  and  residences  of  your 


A    WINDFALL    FOR    THE    <  YOUNG    'UN.'  93 

father,  grandfather,  and  uncles,  on  the  father's  side.  A 
large  landed  property  (some  three  millions  sterling  in 
value)  has  been  left  by  a  descendant  of  the  Burnham 
family  in  England,  and  it  may  be  of  material  pecuniary 
advantage  to  you  to  establish  your  pedigree.  Let  me 
hear  from  you  as  soon  as  convenient. 

Very  resp'y,  your  obed't  serv't, 

*****  *********,  Att'y  for  the  Heirs. 

To  GEO.  P.  BURNHAM,  Esq.,  Franklin  House,  Philadelphia. 


(REPLY.) 

Hon.  *****  ***«****»,  New  York. 

FRANKLIN  HOUSE,  PHILADELPHIA,  Nov.  10,  1846. 

My  Dear  Sir — Your  favour,  under  date  4th  inst., 
came  duly  to  hand,  and  I  improve  my  earliest  moment 
of  leisure  (after  the  unavoidable  delays  attendant  upon 
procuring  the  information  you  seek)  to  repfy.  You  are 
desirous  of  being  made  acquainted  with  my  c  pedigree.' 

I  have  to  inform  you  that  I  have  taken  some  days  to 
examine  into  the  matter,  and,  after  a  careful  investiga 
tion  of  the  i  records,'  find  that  I  am  a  descendant,  in 
the  direct  line,  from  a  gentleman  very  well  remembered 
in  these  parts— by  the  name  of  ADAM.  The  old  man 
had  two  sons ;  *  Cain'  and  '  Abel'  they  were  called. 
The  latter,  by  the  other's  hands,  went  dead  one  day  ; 
but  as  no  coroner  had  then  been  appointed  in  the  county 
where  they  resided,  '  verdict  was  postponed.'  A  third 
son  was  born,  whom  they  called  '  Seth.'  Cain  Adam 
had  a  son  named  Enoch  -who  had  a  son  (in  the  fourth 
generation)  by  the  name  of  Malech.  Malech  had  a  son 


94  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

whom  he  called  NOAH,  from  whom  I  trace,  directly,  my 
own  being. 

NOAH  had  three  sons — <  Shem,' '  Ham,'  and  *  Japhet.' 
The  eldest  and  youngest — Shem  and  Japhet — were  a 
couple  of  the  '  b'hoys' — and  Ham  was  a  very  well  dis 
posed  young  gentleman,  who  slept  at  home  o'nights. 
But  his  two  brothers,  unfortunately,  were  not  so  well 
inclined.  Ham  was  a  sort  of  ' jethro' — the  butt  of  his 
two  brothers — who  had  done  him  c  brown'  so  many  times 
that  they  called  him  (  burnt.5  For  many  years  he  was 
known,  therefore,  as  '  Burnt-Ham.'  Before  his  death  he 
applied  to  the  Legislature  in  his  diggin's  for  a  change  of 
name.  He  dropped  the  t — a  bill  was  passed  entitling 
him  to  the  name  of  BURN-HAM — and  hence  the  sur- 
uname  of  your  humble  servant.  So  much  for  the  "name. 

In  several  of  the  newspapers  of  that  period  I  find  al 
lusions  made  to  a  very  severe  rain-storm  which  occurred 
( just  about  this  time' — and  the  public  prints  (of  all  par 
ties)  agree  that  "  the  storm  was  tremendous,"  and  that 
"  an  immense  amount  of  damage  was  done  to  the  shipping 
and  commercial  interest."  As  this  took  place  some  six 
thousand  years  back,  you  will  not,  I  presume,  expect 
me  to  quote  the  particular  details  of  this  circumstance — 
except  in  so  far  as  refers  directly  to  my  own  relatives. 
I  may  here  add,  however,  that  subsequent  accounts  in 
form  me  that  everything  of  any  particular  value  was 
totally  destroyed.  A  private  letter  from  Ham,  dated  at 
the  time,  declares  that  "  there  wasn't  a  peg  left  to  hang 
his  hat  on  !" 

Old  NOAH  found  it  was  '  gittin'  werry  wet  under 
foot  (to  use  a  familiar  expression  of  his,)  and  he  V  Isely 
built  a  canal-boat  (of  very  generous  dimensions)  for  the 


A    WINDFALL    FOR    THE    <  YOUNG    'UN.'  95 

safety  of  himself  and  family.  Finding  that  the  rain 
continued,  he  enlarged  his  boat,  so  that  he  could  carry 
a  very  considerable  amount  of  luggage  in  case  of  acci 
dent.  This  foresight  in  the  old  gentleman  proved  most 
fortunate,  and  only  confirms  the  established  opinion, 
that  the  family  is  *  smart' — for  the  "storm  continued  un 
abated  for  forty  days  and  forty  nights,"  (so  say  the 
accounts,)  until  every  species  of  animal  and  vegetable 
matter  had  been  '  used  up' — always  excepting  the  old 
gentleman's  canal-boat  and  cargo  !  Now,  Noah  was  a 
great  lover  of  animals — he  was  !  "  Of  every  kind,  a 
male  and  female"  did  he  take  into  his  boat  with  him,  and 
4  a  nice  time'  they  must  have  had  of  it  for  six  weeks ! 
Notwithstanding  the  fact  (which  I  find  recorded  in  one 
of  the  journals  of  the  day)  that  "  a  gentlemen  who  was 
swimming  about,  and  who  requested  the  old  man  to  let 
him  in,  upon  being  refused,  declared  that  he  might  go  to 
grass  with  his  old  canoe,  for  he  didn't  think  it  would 
be  much  of  a  shower,  anyhow !"  I  say,  notwithstanding 
this  opinion  of  the  gentleman,  who  is  represented  as 
having  been  a  '  very  expert  swimmer,'  everything  was 
destroyed. 

HAM  was  one  of  'em — he  was  !  He  '  knew  sufficient 
to  get  out  of  the  rain,'  albeit  he  wasn't  thought 
very  witty  !  He  took  passage  with  the  rest,  however, 
and  thus  did  away  with  the  necessity  of  a  life-preserver. 
From  Ham  I  trace  my  pedigree  directly  down,  through 
all  the  grades,  to  King  Solomon,  without  any  difficulty 
— who,  by  the  way,  was  reported  to  have  been  a  little 
loose  in  his  habits,  and  was  very  fond  of  the  ladies  and 
Manzanilla  Sherry.  He  used  to  sing  songs,  too — of 
which  c  the  least  said  the  soonest  mended.'  But  on  the 


96  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

whole,  Sol  was  a  very  clever,  jolly-good  fellow,  and  .< 
several  occasions  gave  evidence  of  possessing  his  shan  ->f 
the  cunning  natural  to  our  family.  Some  thought  him 
*  wise' — but  although  I  have  no  disposition  to  abuse 
any  of  my  ancestors,  I  think  the  QUEEN  OF  SHEBA  (a 
very  nice  young  woman  she  was,  too,)  rather  *  come 
it'  over  the  old  fellow  ! 

By  a  continuous  chain,  I  trace  my  relationship  thence 
through  a  rather  tortuous  line,  from  generation  to  gen 
eration,  down  to  Mr.  Matthew,  not  the  Comedian,  but 
to  Matthew,  the  Collector,  (of  Galilee,  I  think,) 
who  *  sat  at  the  receipt  of  customs.'  To  this  connec 
tion  I  was  undoubtedly  indebted  for  an  appointment  in 
the  Boston  Custom  House.  Matthew  lived  in  the  good 
old.  {  high  tariff'  times — when  something  in  the  shape 
of  duties  was  coming  in.  But  as  nothing  is  said  of  his 
finale,  I  rather  think  he  absquatulated  with  the  funds  of 
the  Government.  But  I  will  come  to  the  information 
you  desire,  without  further  ado. 

You  know  the  <  OLD  'UN,'  undoubtedly.  (If  you 
don't,  there  is  very  little  doubt  but  you  will  know  his 
namesake,  hereafter,  if  you  don't  cease  to  squander  your 
time  in  looking  after  the  plunder  of  the  Burn  ham  family !) 
Well  the  <  Old  'Un'  is  in  the  <  direct  line,'  to  which  I 
have  now  endeavoured  to  turn  your  attention,  and  I  have 
been  called,  of  late  years,  the  <  YOUNG  'UN' — for  rea 
sons  that  will  not  interest  you.  To  my  honoured  Senior 
(whom  I  set  down  in  the  category  as  my  legitimate 
4  dad')  I  would  refer  you  for  further  particulars.  He 
is  tenacious  of  the  character  of  his  progeny — and  loves 
me  ;  1  would  commend  you  to  him,  for  it  will  warm  the 


A    WINDFALL    FOR    THE    '  YOUNG    'UN.'  97 

cockles  of  his  old  heart  to  learn  that  the  '  YOUNG  'UV 
is  in  luck. 

If  you  chance  to  live  long  enough  to  get  as  far  down 
in  my  letter  as  this  paragraph,  allow  me  to  add  that 
should  you  happen  to  receive  any  very  considerable 
amount  as  my  share  of  the  (  property,'  for  the  Burnham 
family,  please  not  overlook  the  fact  that  I  am  '  one  of 
'em' — and  that  I  have  taken  pains  to  tell  you  *  whar  I 
cum  from.'  Please  forward  my  dividend  by  Adams  & 
Co.'s  Express  (if  their  crates  should  be  big  enough  to 
convey  it),  and  if  it  should  prove  too  bulky,  turn  it  into 
American  gold  and  charter  a  steamer  to  come  round  for 
the  purpose ;  I  shan't  mind  the  expense !  In  conclu 
sion,  I  can  only  intimate  the  high  consideration  I  enter 
tain  towards  yourself  for  having  pre-paid  the  postage 
upon  your  communication — a  very  unusual  transaction 
•with  legal  gentlemen.  My  sensations,  upon  closing  this 
hasty  scrawl,  are,  I  fancy,  very  nearly  akin  to  those  of 
the  Hibernian  who  ( liked  to  have  found  a  sovereign 
once' — but  you  will  allow  me  to  assure  you  that  it  will 
afford  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  meet  you  at  the 
FRANKLIN  HOUSE,  in  this  city,  where  I  shall  be  happy 
to  give  you  any  further  information  in  my  power  touch 
ing  that  '  putty'  in  prospective. 

I  am  very  resp'y,  your  obed't  serv't, 

GEO.  P.  BURNHAM,  alias  the  '  YOUNG  'UN.' 
I 


A  TALE  OF  A  TURKEY. 

AN    UNFORTUNATE    FACT. 

Orlando. — Forbear  !  and  eat  no  more  ! 

Duke. — We  have  eat  none  yet. 

Orlando. — Nor  shall  you  till  my  appetite  be  served. 

As  Yon  Like  It. 

ONE  Saturday  evening,  not  long  ago,  a  trio  of  young 
gentlemen  going  home  in  the  evening,  after  the  labours 
of  the  week  had  ended,  chancing  to  look  upwards  at  a 
third  story  window  of  a  certain  house  in  a  certain 
street,  not  many  leagues  from  the  well-known  Marlboro' 
Hotel,  Boston,  tenanted  by  an  acquaintance  of  theirs, 
a  young  man  of  great  histrionic  ability  and  repute, 
espied  one  of  *  Plato's  Men,'  i.  e.  a  bird  of  'the  genus 
Turkey,  denuded  of  its  feathers,  and  in  fact  prepared 
for  spitting,  hanging  in  a  melancholy  manner  from  a 
window-fastening,  for  the  benefit  of  pure  air. 

Mr.  T.,  the  proprietor  of  the  bird,  being  something 
of  a  bird-fancier,  had,  a  few  days  previous,  purchased 
this  choice  turkey,  for  the  purpose  of  regaling  himself 
and  family  therewith  on  Sunday,  wisely  deferring  jthe 
luxurious  feast  to  a  day  of  rest,  whereon  the  wicked 
prompter  ceaseth  from  troubling,  and  the  annoying  call- 
boy  is  quiescent.  So  there  the  turkey — or  the  ding- 
dong,  as  Paul  Shack  has  it,  hung  in  the  night  breeze : 

And  like  a  mighty  pendulum, 
All  solemnly  he  swung. 


A    TALE    OF    A    TURKEY.  99 

But  if  Mr.  T.  loved  turkey,  so  did  his  three  friends, 
and  Mephistopheles  prompted  them  to  a  «  deed  without 
a  name ;'  (null  and  void,  accordingly,  their  easy  con 
sciences  argued,)  and  this  was  no  other  than  the  abduc 
tion  of  the  bird. 

"  Turkies  are  high,"  said  one  of  the  trio. 

"  Yes,  but  they'll  come  down,"  answered  another, 
who,  by  chance,  had  become  possessed  of  a  long  cedar 
pole,  which  had  been  dropped  out  of  an  unconscious 
countryman's  cart.  To  lash  the  hooked  blade  of  an 
open  jacknife  to  the  extremity  of  this  pole  was  the  work 
of  a  moment ;  in  another,  the  string  which  attached  the 
turkey  to  his  nail  was  cut. 

"  The  last  link  wras  broken,"  and  down  came  the 
bM—fodlis  descensus,  as  the  poet  has  it. 

The  watchman  was  slumbering,  and  the  prize  was 
secured.  They  carried  it  into  an  eating-house,  and 
ordered  mine  host  to  roast  it  and  serve  it  up  the  next 
day  with  appropriate  « fixins'  for  their  Sunday  dinner. 

The  next  day,  punctual  to  the  appointed  hour,  the 
friends  assembled  and  were  told  their  meal  would  soon 
be  served.  While  waiting  for  this  desirable  consumma 
tion,  in  came  the  owner  of  the  abducted  bird.  He  was 
pale  and  wan,  and  in  a  state  of  considerable  agitation. 
Walking  up  to  the  landlord  in  a  nervous  manner,  he 
begged  to  know  if  he  could,  as  a  great  favour,  accom- 
modate*him  with  about  five  pounds  of  beef-steak. 

"  It's  all  gone,"  was  the  answer. 
«  Mutton  ?" 

"All  out." 

«  What  have  you  got  ?"gasped  the  despairing  victim. 
"  I've  got  nothing  for  my  Sunday  dinner." 


100  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

<  You'd  ought  to  have  provided  beforehand,"  said 
the  sententious  host. 

"  So  I  did,"  replied  the  agonized  actor: 

"  I  had  a  turkey,  and  a  better  one 
Ne'er  did  repose  upon  a  rusty  nail ; 
But  he  is  gone ;  whither,  I  know  not,  sir. 
The  earth  has  bubbles  as  the  water  hath, 

And  he  was  one  of  these 

A  turkey  towering  in  his  pride  of  place, 
Was  hawked  and  moused  at 

by  some  prowling  rascal — I  only  wish  I  knew  who  it 
was." 

«  Won't  you  dine  with  us?"  asked  one  of  the  con 
spirators,  "  we  are  going  to  have  turkey." 

"  No — no — I  thank  you — think  of  my  family,  they 
would  have  no  turkey. 

"  Farewell,  a  long  farewell  to  dreams  of  turkey. 

Landlord,  \vhat  can  you  give  me  ?" 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say,"  said  the  host,  after  a  wink  from 
one  of  the  initiated,  "that  I  can't  spare  you  any  meat 
or  poultry.  I'm  hard  up  myself.  If  it  was  any  other 
day  but  Sunday.  As  far  as  a  pot  of  baked  beans  goes, 
however " 

"  Beans !"  shrieked  the  victim,  "  do  you  take  us  for 
Mexicans,  that  you  would  feed  us  on  their  national  ra 
tions  ?  Begone !  thou  troublest  me — I'm  not  in  the 
bean-eating  vein.  My  wife!  my  little  ones !  Beans!" 
he  repeated,  with  a  sneering  and  demoniac  emphasis. 

"  Better  have  'em,"  said  the  landlord. 

"Beans  be  it,  then!"  said  the  victim,  in  the  deep, 
hollow  tones  of  forced  resignation. 


A    TALE    OF  A    TURKEY.  101 

<«  Salubrious,  savoury,  and  economical  beans!"  sug 
gested  the  landlord  pleasantly  and  mildly.  "  Ah  !"  he 
added  soothingly,  as  he  folded  up  a  brown  pot  in  a 
napkin  and  delivered  it  to  the  despairing  applicant,  "  I 
could  almost  pick  a  bean  with  you  myself." 

"  Gentlemen!"  said  the  victim,  folding  the  bean-pot 
in  his  arms  with  an  air  of  great  dignity,  "you  cannot 
fully  appreciate  my  feelings,  you  cannot  sympathize 
entirely  with  me.  You  called  for  turkey,  and  you  had 
it :  7,  who  had  for  four  days  been  preparing  my  palate 
for  the  inordinate  delectation  which  a  well-roasted  din- 
don  invariably  affords,  am  obliged  to  satisfy  it  with  an 
article  compared  to  which,  turkey  is,  as  Shakspeare  ob 
serves,  <  Hyperion  to  a  Satyr.'  Imagine  the  transition 
from  roast  turkey  to  baked  beans  !  Pardon  these  tears ! 
Truly  there  is  but  one  step  from  the  sublime  to  the 
ridiculous !"  And  with  these  words  Mr.  T.  disappeared 
with  his  sorrowful  burthen. 

The  conspirators  dined  well  that  day,  while  their  vic 
tim — but  we  will  forbear  to  draw  aside  the  veil  which 
should  shroud  the  sorrows  of  a  bereaved  and  afflicted 
family. 

On  New  Year's  eve,  however,  Mr.  T.  was  agreeably 
surprised  by  the  reception  of  a  note  and  a  parcel.  The 
former  was  anonymous,  and  contained  condolences  upon 
his  loss  ;  the  latter  contained  a  turkey,  finer,  fatter, 
heavier  than  the  lamented  and  lost  bird. 

When  the  remains  of  this  atonement  were  removed 
from  the  table  upon  New  Year's  day,  Mr.  T.  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  weary  with  his  labours.  «  That  was 
capital!"  said  he — "  but  upon  my  soul,  I  wish  I  could 
find  out  who  stole  that  other  turkey" 

F.  A.  D. 


APPLYING  THE  PEINCIPLE. 

A  BRACE  of  legs,  thrust  considerably  too  far  through 
a  pair  of  mottled  pants,  and  attached  to  a  couple  of  the 
largest-sized  feet,  which  were  encased  in  twin  cowhide 
brogans,  formed  the  underpinning  to  a  long,  slabsided 
body,  of  otherwise  generous  proportions  —  the  whole 
being  surmounted  by  a  head,  which  was  covered  \vith  a 
gray  <  five  year  old'  (at  least)  sealskin  cap.  This  sum 
total  —  legs,  pants,  feet,  shoes,  body,  and  chapeau  —  was 
the  property,  by  possession,  of  Mr.  ZENAS  HUMSPUN. 

ZENAS  had  been  on  <  a  bat'  during  the  night  previous, 
and  had  squandered  full  half-a-dollar  on  himself,  in 
white-eye  and  sweetening.  But  his  returning  senses 
made  him  feel  philosophical  —  and,  on  the  morning  we 
speak  of  him,  he  stood,  at  an  early  hour,  in  - 
street,  gazing  mechanically  at  the  Telegraphic  wires  — 
soliloquizing,  thus  wise  : 

«  'ic  I—That's  the  telergiijf.  W  --  'ic—  well,  I  don't 
poorceive  nuthin'  per  —  'ic  —  culier  'bout  them  strings  — 
on'y  one's  bigger  'en  t'other  —  'ic." 

"That's  the  lightfnin'1  linej  the  big  'un"  —  said  an 
urchin  in  the  doorway  near  by. 

"  Wen  does  she  —  'ic  —  start?" 

"  You'd  better  ax  in  thar." 


i  'In  the  office,  up  thar." 

The  loafer  was  shown  to  the  door  of  the  building,  and 


APPLYING    THE    PRINCIPLE.  103 

*  by  hook  or  crook'  found  his  way  up  three  flights  of 
stairs,  into  the  Telegraphic  office.  The  attendants  in 
quired  "  what  the  gentleman  had  to  forward  ?" 

«  For'ud  ?— -'ic— who's  sJie?" 

«  What  will  you  send  ?" 

"  Send  whar?" 

"This  is  the  Telegraph  office,  sir." 

"  Well — 'ic — who'n  thunder  said  it  wusn't?" 

"I  supposed  you  had  business,  sir." 

"  Nuthin'  o'  the  sort — 'ic — quite  the  re — 'ic — verse 
o'  the  con£r#«y." 

"  What  will  you  have  ?" 

"  I  want  to  make  some — 'ic — quiries." 

The  hour  being  early,  and  little  doing,  the  clerks  very 
charitably  determined  upon  some  fun  with  the  fellow, 
with  a  view  to  sobering  him.  The  opportunity  for  any 
thing  gratuitous  escaped  them,  however — for  as  they 
commenced  a  consultation  upon  the  best  means  to  benefit 
the  intruder,  he  stepped  up  to  one  of  the  batteries,  which 
happened,  fortunately,  to  be  but  lightly  charged — and, 
concluding  that  the  knobs  were  portable,  he  pulled  his 
cap  over  his  forehead  and  attempted  to  remove  one  of 
the  balls  ;  the  next  moment  Zenas  lay  stretched  upon  the 
floor! 

He  arose,  as  best  he  could,  and  turned  to  the  clerk, 
with — 

"  Look  yere,  Mister — 'ic — wot's — yure — name  ?  I 
kin  lick  as  many  sich  like  skunks  as  you,  as  could  be 

druv  into  a  forty  aiker  lot !  Wot  in did  yer — 'ic 

— nock  a  innersent  man  down  that  way  fer? — Eh?" 

"  Nobody  touched  y^u  !"  said  the  clerk. 

«  The  devil  they— 'ic—  didn't !" 


104  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

«  No,  Sir.     You  took  the" 


"  Took  wotl  Yere's  yure  corntemptible  copper" — 
and,  proceeding  to  dash  a  loose  penny  towards  the 
attendant,  which  lay  upon  the  machine — his  fingers  came 
in  contact  with  the  battery,  and  away  he  went  again, 
hee]s  over  head,  across  the  floor! 

"Look  yew!"  continued  the  sufferer,  who,  by  this 
time,  was  well  nigh  sobered — "  'ed  blast  yure  infernal 
pictur,  wot  in  thunder  are  you  'baout?" 

"  You  mustn't  handle  the  tools" — observed  the  clerk, 
nearly  bursting  with  laughter. 

"  Look  you !  Mr.  Wot's-your-name — I  arn't  to  be 
fooled  this  yere  way,  fer  nuthin' — /  arn't.  By  thunder ! 
I'm  a  inderpendunt  individooal,  /  am — and  this  yere 
nockin'  people  down,  without  notice  of  no  kind,  arn't 

the  thing,  by !  Ef  you'll  open  that  yere  door,  I'll 

go  out  o'  this,  and  no  questions  axed." 

«  That's  the  door,  sir." 

"That  brass  handle?" 

"Yes." 

"I'm  blowed  ef  you  do,  though!  This  child  don't 
meddle  with  no  more  hard  ware  in  this  trap,  no  how!" 

The  door  was  opened  by  the  clerk,  and  the  fellow 
sidled  out.  A  suppressed  laugh  pervaded  the  counte 
nance  of  the  attendant,  as  Zenas  departed — which,  as 
the  door  closed,  vented  itself  in  a  broad  haw-haw. 

"  You're  a  smart  young  gentleman — you  are  !"  bawled 
the  loafer,  through  tJie  keyhole,  as  he  held  the  door  fast 
with  both  hands — "you're  a  very  smart  young  man! 
You'd  like  to  git  out  o'  that,  and  go  to  yur  breakfast, 
bimeby,  may  be  !  An'  ef  yer  do  git  any  grub  afore  noon, 
jes  let  a  feller  'bout  my  size  know  it — will  yer  ?  I'll 


APPLYING    THE    PRINCIPLE.  105 

teach  yer  to  knock  people  down,  simultaneously — fer 
nuthin' — /will" — and,  from  the  preparations  making  on 
the  outside,  the  prospect  was  that  the  "  insiders"  were 
to  be  made  prisoners. 

A  thought  struck  the  attendant.  He  disconnected  the 
wire,  and  placing  it  in  contact  with  the  knob  of  the  door 
upon  the  inside,  his  companion  let  on  the  battery ! 

The  door  flew  open  instantaneously,  and  our  valiant 
stranger,  with  the  sealskin  cap,  was  discovered  in  the 
act  of  an  anti-angular  descent  down  stairs,  the  side  of 
his  head  scraping  the  paint  from  the  edges  of  the  steps, 
and  his  legs  meantime  performing  an  involuntary 
pirouette,  which  would  have  done  infinite  credit  to  a 
French  dancing-master ! 

It  so  chanced  that  Zenas  had  purchased  a  bunch  of 
lucifer  matches  the  night  before,  which  he  had  deposited 
in  his  coat  pocket.  In  his  progress  down  stairs,  the 
matches  had  become  ignited,  and  by  the  time  he  had 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  first  flight,  he  had  partially  re 
covered  from  the  first  effects  of  <  the  shock' — but  the 
fluid  tingled  through  his  veins,  his  coat-tails  were  on  fire, 
and  he  was  not  <•  set  forward'  in  his  imagination  any, 
by  this  last  effort  of  his  tormentors.  He  discovered  the 
fire,  and  presuming  it  was  part  and  parcel  of  the  <  cussid 
invention' — he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  with  both  hands 
briskly  at  work  behind  him,  for  the  purpose  of  smothering 
the  flame,  which  was  roasting  the  seat  of  his  inexpressi 
bles — he  l  put'  for  the  street  door  at  full  gallop ! 

iFire!    Fire!      Help!   yere!      Ow!!   murd — fire! 
help!"  shouted  the  victim,  as  he  darted  into  the  street. 

Away  he  dashed  towards  Baltimore,  at  a  speed  which 
the  <lightnin'  line'  itself  might  have  been  proud  of. 


106  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

Luckily,  a  square  off,  he  discovered  a  servant,  with  a 
hose  attached  to  one  of  the  hydrants,  busily  engaged  in 
washing  off  the  pavement.  He  rushed  to  the  spot,  and 
turning  short  before  him — a  posteriori — he  begged  him, 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  for  God's  sake"  to  "put  him 

wt?" 

Perhaps  his  sable  friend's  eye  didn't  glisten,  and  may 
be  his  c  ivory'  didn't  shine,  as  he  charitably  turned 
<  the  current  of  that  stream'  upon  the  unmentionable 
portion  of  the  poor  devil's  netherments !  "The  fire 
was  extinguished  without  serious  damage,"  as  the  pa 
pers  say — the  loafer  was  thoroughly  saturated — and 
having  exchanged  his  c  heavy  inside  wet'  for  a  skin- 
drenching,  he  departed,  perfectly  sober,  amidst  the  jeers 
of  the  crowd  who  had  witnessed  the  finale— most  vocife 
rously  cursing  all  improvements  in  magnetism  and  com 
bustibles  ! 

G.  P.  B. 


LOVE  IN  THE  BOWERY. 

"  The  course  of  true  love  didn't  never  run  smooth.5' 

Shale  spear  e — Bowery  edition, 

I. 

I  SEEN  her  on  the  sidewalk, 

When  I  run  with  number  9 : 
My  eyes  spontaneous  sought  out  hern — 

And  hern  was  fixed  on  mine. 
She  waved  her  pocket  handkerchief, 

As  we  went  rushin5  by — 
No  boss  that  ever  killed  in  York 

Was  happier  than  I. 
I  felt  that  I  had  done  it ; 

And  what  had  won  her  smile — 
'Twas  them  embroidered  braces, 

And  that  'ere  immortal  tile. 

2. 

I  sought  her  out  at  Wauxhall, 

Afore  that  place  was  shet — 
Oh  !  that  happy,  happy  evenin', 

I  recollex  it  yet. 
I  gin  her  cords  of  peanuts, 

And  a  apple  and  a  f  wet.' 
Oh  !  that  happy,  happy  evenin', 

I  recollex  it  yet. 


108  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

3. 

I  took  her  out  to  Harlem — 

On  the  road  we  cut  a  swell, 
And  the  nag  we  had  afore  us 

Went  twelve  mile  afore  he  fell. 
And  though  ven  he  struck  the  pavement, 

The  '  crab'  began  to  fail, 
I  got  another  mile  out  — 

By  twisting  of  his  tail. 

4. 

I  took  her  to  the  Bowery — 

She  sat  long  side  of  me — 
They  acted  out  a  piece  they  called 

"  The  Wizard  of  the  Sea." 
And  when  the  sea-fight  was  fetched  on, 

Eliza  cried  "  hay  !  hay  !" 
And  like  so  many  minutes  there 

Five  hours  slipped  away, 

5. 

Before  the  bridle  halter, 

I  thought  to  call  her  mine — 
The  day  was  fixed  when  she  to  me 

Her  hand  and  heart  should  jine. 
The  rum  old  boss,  the  father,  swore 

He'd  gin  her  out  er  hand, 
Two  hundred  cash — and  also  treat 

To  number  9's  men  stand. 


DRIVING    A   PARSON   ASHORE.  109 

6. 

But  bless  me !  if  she  didn't  slip 

Her  halter  on  the  day  : 
A  pedlar  from  Connecticut, 

He  carried  her  away. 
And  when  the  news  was  brought  to  me, 

I  felt  almighty  blue  ; 
And  though  I  didn't  shed  no  tear, 

Perhaps  I  cussed  '  a  few.' 

7. 
Well,  let  it  pass — there's  other  gals, 

As  beautiful  as  she ; 
And  many  a  butcher's  lovely  child 

Has  cast  sheep's  eyes  at  me. 
I  wears  no  crape  upon  my  hat, 

'Cause  I'm  a  packin'  sent — 
I  only  takes  a  extra  horn, 

Observing,  "  LET  HER  WENT  1" 

F.  A.  D. 


DRIVING  A  PARSON  ASHORE. 

A  GREAT  many  very  probable  stories  are  told  of  acci 
dents  and  hair-breadth  escapes — by  sea  and  land.  The 
traveller  who  finds  himself  on  board  a  Mississippi 
steamer,  will  occasionally  meet  a  <  passenger'  who  has 
shaken  hands  with  the  '  grim  monster,'  arid  parted  coin- 


110  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

pany  with  him,  at  considerably  less  than  a  moment's 
notice ! 

We  were  a  fortunate  collection,  on  board  the  elegant 
'  Yorktown* — upon  one  of  her  downward  trips  last  sea 
son,  and  with  a  full  river  and  a  rapid  current,  were 
making  headway  at  more  than  a  twenty  mile  lick,  down 
stream — on  a  clear  day  early  in  November. 

'  Drinks  all  round'  had  been  the  order  of  the  evening 
(with  a  certain  coterie  of  friends),  the  occupation  being 
varied  only  by  '  cobblers  for  the  party' — e  snifters  for 
the  crowd'— or  '  slugs  for  the  entire  company' — until, 
by  common  consent,  the  '  mourners'  settled  themselves 
down  into  comparative  quiet. 

Most  of  the  passengers  had  disappeared  for  the  night, 
and  only  a  knot  of  <  hard-heads'  were  left  upon  deck. 
These  remained  till  day-light,  amusing  each  other  with 
long  yarns.  At  early  morning  they  had  drawn  some 
half-a-dozen  listeners  around  them,  among  whom  was  a 
superstitious  impostor,  in  rusty  black  and  straight  hair 
— who  was  endeavouring  to  palm  himself  off  for  a  cler 
gyman,  and  who  was  strongly  suspected  by  one  of  the 
story-tellers.  The  principal  object  of  the  most  promi 
nent  speaker  (who  was  a  rough  but  good-natured  Vir 
ginian)  seemed  to  be,  to  impress  upon  the  mind  of  this 
pretended  Rev.,  the  dangers  and  jeopardies  of  steam- 
travelling  ;  more  particularly  in  boats,  more  especially 
upon  rivers,  and  more  peculiarly  on  the  Mississippi  ri 
ver  !  The  parson  had  said  little,  but  he  gave  his  neigh 
bours  to  understand  that  all  his  predilections  wrere  in 
favour  of  the  f  doctrine  of  fore-ordination.' 

"  Whatever  is  to  be,  will  be,"  sighed  the  rusty  gen 
tleman,  as  the  Virginian  concluded  an  account  of  a 


DRIVING    A    PARSON    ASHORE.  Ill 

dreadful  steamboat  accident,  which  occurred  only  a  few 
days  previously. 

"  You  b'lieve  it,  do  you,  stranger  I'9 

"  Indeed,  my  friend,  I  do." 

"  P'raps  you  never  heern  tell  o'  that  'orful  catastro- 
phy  as  took  place  Aere-abouts,  some  time  ago  ?" 

"  Mercy !— No." 

"  Last  year — afo'  Christmas" 

"To  what?" 
fe   "  To  the  steamer  Snorter." 

"No!     Where?" 

"  On  this  very  river." 

«  How  ?" 

«  Bu'st  her  biler." 

"When?" 

"  Just  about  this  time  oj  day." 

«  The  dev 1  mean,  you  don't  say  so!" 

"Oh,  yes.  What  is  ter  be,  mil  be — and  a  feller 
can't  help  it." 

The  tabs  of  a  dingy  white  neck-cloth  dangled  at  the 
side  of  the  narrator's  chair,  and  a  pair  of  dingier  gray 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  Virginian's  as  he  proceeded. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?"    asked  the  reverend. 

"  Wai.  We  had  a  fello'  abo'd,  as  was  struck  with  a 
fit  o'  preachinj — and  the  cuss  never  'd  sleep  o'  nights, 
but  keep  a  hollerin'  and  blo'in' — cos  he  was  afeered 
sunthin7  would  split  afo'  day — he  said — we  wus  such 
a  wicked  set,  and  he'd  try  to  hev  sum  uv  us  put  asho'. 
He  was  a  Jonah,  cuss  him,  but  we  fixed  him  afo'  we  got 
through." 

"  How?"  asked  the  parson. 

«  How  ?     W'v— we  left  him  asho' !" 


112  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

«  Where  ?" 

"On  the  river — yere." 

"In  the  night?" 

"No.  Just  about  this  time!  We  overhauled  a 
boat  as  wus  runnin'  in  the  opposition  (at  a  wood-yard 
below),  and  afo'  we  knew  whar  we  wus,  the  cap'n  had 
got  our  craft  under  weigh  agin  (for  the  feller  had  started 
off  ahead  of  us,  in  a  hurry),  and  we  wus  soon  neck  and 
neck.  The  pitch-knots  was  crammed  inter  the  furnaces, 
right  smart,  stranger,  and  away  we  went,  sometimes  afo' 
and  sometimes  abreast  of  the  «  Sno'rter.'  Wul — we 
finally  hove  in  sight  of  another  wood-yard,  whar  we  hed 
to  stop  to  take  in  fuel.  We  veered  round  to  the  sho', 
p.nd  made  fast  in  a  jiffy." 

"  Well  ?"  said  the  parson,  as  his  eyes  started  in  their 
sockets. 

«  Wul,  thar  was  a  heap  o'  steam  on  her,  and  we  hed 
made  up  our  minds  that  what  '  wus  to  be,  would  be,' 
and  it  xvusn't  o'  no  use  to  be  skeert  afo'  we  wus  hurt ; 
'n  so  we  jes  naterally  insisted  that  the  other  craft  must 
be  beat  any  how." 

"Well?" 

"Wul,  wot  do  you  suppose  the  cap'n  did, stranger?" 

"  Can't  say." 

"  He  druv  one  end  of  a  cro'bar  into  the  loop  over 
the  'scape-valve  (which  was  bobbin'  up  an'  down,  and 
Jettin'  off  the  extra  steam)  and  jes  set  hisself  down  on 
the  other  end  uv  it  /" 

«  The  devil  he  did  !" 

"  The  what,  stranger?" 

"  I  say  it  can't  be  possible ! 

"  But  /  say  he  did,  though — and  thar  he  sot  till  she 
blo'dup'" 


DRIVING    A    PARSON    ASHORE.  113 

«  Busted  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes1  When  we  started  from  the  sho' — at  the 
fust  turn  of  the  wheel  on  her,  she  bust  into  a  thousand 
splinters." 

"  Awful !"  says  the  parson. 

"  The  cap'n  wus  never  heer'd  on.  I  was  standin' 
on  the  upper  deck,"  continued  the  Virginian,  "  and  the 
feller  as  wanted  to  preach  so  bad,  was  heavin'  the  pitch 
into  the  fires  when  she  bust." 

"  And  you  never  saw  him  more?"  inquired  the  par 
son,  in  breathless  suspense. 

*    "  0  yes.      As  me  and  the  smoke-pipe  went  UP,  we  met 
the  cuss  coming  DOWN  ! !" 

«  Well?"  continued  the  impostor. 

«  Well,  I  kno'ed  he  wus  a  Jonah"  added  the  Vir 
ginian,  "  an'  ef  he  hadn't  a  bin  done  fer,  as  he  wus,  I'd 
a  licked  him  to  death — fer  palming  himself  off  fer  a  par 
son,  which  he  wusn't !" 

The  gentleman  with  the  straight  hair  and  seedy  coat 
turned  pale  upon  this,  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the  story 
the  bell  rang,  below — the  steampipe  sent  forth  its  thun 
der — and  the  boat  veered  round  in  front  of  another 
wood-yard. 

"  What's  that?"  asked  the  pretended  parson. 

"  We're  heavin'    asho'.     This  is  the  very  yard  /" 

The  impostor  scrambled  ashore — up  the  steep  bank 
— and  when  the  last  bell  rung,  nothing  was  seen  of  him. 
We  left  again,  but  no  parson  was  in  sight.  WTe  had 
been  detained  half  an  hour  at  the  yard,  and  were  now 
quietly  making  our  way  down  stream,  close  to  the  shore 
--when  from  a  bluff  on  the  bank,  a  mile  or  so  below 
the  wood-yard,  our  missing  parson  was  suddenly  dis- 


114  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

covered,  shaking  his  clenched  fist  most  lustily  at  his 
Virginian  friend,  who  was  the  first  to  espy  him ! 

The  only  reply  vouchsafed  by  his  tormentor,  to  this 
pugnacious  demonstration,  was  a  certain  twisting  of  his 
fingers  in  front  of  his  phiz — while  his  thumb  rested  gen 
tly  upon  the  tip  of  his  nose!  We  continued  on  our 
course,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  the  frightened  l  parson,' 
he  was  rushing  along  the  river's  bank  at  top-speed,  and 
evincing  a  most  religious  desire  to  find  a  big  stone  to 
hurl  at  the  head  of  his  persecutor,  who  soon  left  him  to 
his  own  reflections ! 

G.  P.  B. 


TIM  LINKS,  THE  SHOWMAN. 

A    DESULTORY  SKETCH    OF    CHARACTER. 

"  What  though  a  man  be  obligated  to  dance  a  bear,  a  man  may  be 
a  gentleman  for  all  that." 

She  Stoops  to  Conquer. 

WE  first  knew  TIM  LINKS  as  a  gentleman  in  velvet 
smalls,  who  used  to  lead  calico  horses  into  the  ring  at  a 
travelling  circus,  and,  in  connexion  with  another  gentle 
man  in  velvet  smalls,  adjust  the  spring-board  and  carr^ 
out  the  evergreen  tree  that  grew  oranges  for  the  consump 
tion  of  the  « Sprites  of  the  Silver  Shower.'  He  never  as 
pired  to  the  dignity  of  spangles,  and  his  smalls,  from  con 
stant  contact  with  the  ring,  became  of  such  an  inveterate 
tan-colour,  that  when  he  stood  in  the  arena  in  a  dim 


TIM    LINKS,    THE    SHOWMAN.  115 

light,  he  looked  like  a  Herculean  torso  from  the  ruins  of 
Pompeii.  We  next  hear  of  him  as  second  camel- 
puncher  in  a  Grand  Caravan.  And  so  Links  rose,  step 
by  step,  until  he  became  possessor  of  a  cheap  flamingo 
and  a  plethoric  porcupine,  when  he  seceded  from  the 
Caravan,  and  set  up  a  e  side  show,'  travelling  with  the 
Menagerie  as  an  independent  satellite,  and  diverting  a 
good  many  coppers  from  the  legitimate  establishment. 
The  t  Grand  Junction  United  Zoological  Institute'  finally 
bought  him  out,  and  he  set  up  a  shingle  in  Broadway, 
some  sixteen  years  ago,  with  a  small  assortment  of  ani 
mals,  which  he  exhibited  at  a  shilling  a  head  admission. 
I  remember  the  original  flamingo — with  very  few  of  the 
original  feathers  left — used  to  stand  on  one  leg  in  an  area 
outside  the  show,  as  a  forlorn  hope  to  entice  the  unwary 
within  doors.  Links  used  to  stand  a  good  part  of  his 
time  at  the  door,  to  solicit  custom  as  well  as  to  parry 
the  satirical  sallies  which  the  «  b'hoys'  were  wont  to  di 
rect  against  his  favourite  bird. 

"Bless  my  eye-balls!"  a  juvenile  critic  would  ex 
claim,  "  that  'ere  a  flamingo !  Why,  he  hain't  got  but 
one  leg,  and  he's  as  bare  as  a  picked  crow." 

"  Gentlemen  !"  Links  would  say,  "  he's  a  moultin' 
(he  was  always  a  moulting,  according  to  Links),  and 
he'll  come  out  week  after  next  as  red  as  a  pan-tile. 
You  blasted  fool !  (addressing  the  bird  with  a  venomous 
punch)  let  down  your  t'other  leg!  Don't  you  see  'em 
poking  fun  at  yer !  There,  gentlemen  !  that  'ere's  the 
original  St.  Domingo  of  South  Ammeriky,  which  feeds 
on  cochineal  in  his  native  state,  and  owres  his  colour  to 
the  prevalence  of  red  pepper  in  Cayenne — drinks  no- 
tliiug  but  port  wine,  and  is  partial  to  lady-bugs.  Walk 


116  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

in,  gentlemen,  and  see  the  collection — bears,  tigers, 
kangaroos,  and  porkepines,  which  beats  the  Zoological 
Gardens  all  holler,  and  can't  be  come  over  by  the  Gar 
dens  des  Plantys  in  Par-ee  /" 

This  appeal  used  to  draw  down  torrents  of  applause 
and  laughter,  when  Links  would  disappear  through  a 
green  baize  door,  and  his  exit  would  be  followed  by  a 
growl  from  an  invisible  bear  and  c  Buy  a  Broom'  from 
a  hand-organ,  with  the  middle  bars  left  out. 

Tim  Links  was  not  a  man  of  exemplary  habits. 
There  was  a  certain  plebeian  bar-room  in  a  by-street, 
hard  by  his  <  Institute,'  where  he  was  wont  to  sit  from 
11,  P.  M.,  into  the  small  hours  of  the  morning,  imbibing 
strong  waters,  and  growling  over  his  cups  like  an  un 
happy  bear,  whose  disposition,  when  not  perfectly  sober, 
and  imperfectly  drunk,  seemed  to  be  his  own.  One 
night,  the  landlord,  incensed  at  the  row  he  made,  re 
proached  him  with  the  severity  of  the  <  turkey'  he  had 
<  on,'  and  shoved  him  out  of  doors  sans  ceremonie. 

"It's  a  turkey  I've  got  on,"  hiccuped  Tim  Links,  as 
he  noticed  a  singular  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  pave 
to  rise  up  and  impede  his  progress — «  to-morrow  night, 
old  fellow,  it'll  be  another  sort  of  bird." 

And  sure  enough,  as  the  clock  struck  twelve  on  the 
ensuing  night,  Tim  walked  into  the  bar-room  with  a 
bald  eagle  perched  upon  his  shoulders.  Marching 
up  to  the  bar,  he  ordered  a  double  tumbler  of  whis 
key  punch.  Now,  though  the  £  bird  of  our  banner'  was 
very  fond  of  Tim,  he  was  not  partial  to  strangers ;  and 
when  the  old  Dutch  landlord  was  handing  his  glass  to 
Tim,  the  eagle,  poising  himself  upon  one  claw,  thrust 
forth  the  other  in  ravenous  guise,  and  inflicted  a  severe 
scratch  on  the  pate  of  mine  host. 


'While  the  bear  very  quietly  took  an  arm-chair  at  the  other,  &,nd  disclosed  a 
double  row  of  sharp  serrated  teeth. 'l—Paye  117. 


TIM    LINKS,    THE    SHOWMAN.  117 

"  Bonder  and  blixen  !"  roared  Mein  Herr.  "  Take 
the  tamt  pird  away,  Tim !  Ter  tuyfel !  how  mem  head 
shmarts!" 

"  Like  him  better  than  a  turkey  ?"  asked  Tim,  with  a 
fiendish  grin. 

The  bar-room  loafers  rose  in  affright,  as  the  savage 
bird,  spreading  his  pinions,  circled  over  their  heads,  ut 
tering  his  shrill  shrieks,  menacing  each  individual  in  the 
assembly,  arid  not  ceasing  his  gyrations  until  he  had 
driven  them  all  forth  into  the  street. 

With  a  malignant  smile  of  satisfaction,  Tim  resumed 
his  bird,  and  went  home  as  sober  as  a  church. 

The  next  night,  punctual  to  the  chime  of  twelve,  Tim 
made  his  appearance  in  full  Zoological  costume.  He 
wore  his  eagle  as  before — round  his  neck  he  had  twisted 
a  couple  of  torpid  boas,  and  by  a  short  chain  he  led  a 
very  savage  and  congenial  bear.  The  crowd  receded 
before  his  weighty  steps;  the  Dutchman  was  horror- 
stricken  as  he  beheld  his  uncomfortable  customer  seat 
himself  at  one  side  of  a  table  covered  with  sprigged  oil 
cloth,  while  the  bear  very  quietly  took  an  arm-chair  at 
the  other,  and  disclosed  a  double  row  of  sharp  serrated 
teeth,  as  he  smiled  upon  the  unfortunate  landlord  with  an 
unwonted  effort  at  benignity. 

"  Milk  punch  for  two !"  said  Tim,  sternly,  with  a 
wave  of  his  <  red  right  hand.' 

"  Tirectly,  sir,"  answered  the  quivering  landlord,  in 
the  meekest  tone  imaginable. 

"  Make  'em  strong,"  said  Tim — «  no  nutmeg  for  the 
bear — and  harkye,  a  plate  of  crackers  for  the  bird." 

The  perspiration  poured  down  the  poor  landlord's 
face,  as  he  laboured  in  the  composition  of  the  bibables. 


118 


STRAY    SUBJECTS. 


"  And  now,  mein  tear  Mr.  Links,"  said  he,  in  a  sup 
plicating  tone  of  voice,  «  you  vill  come  and  get  te  trinks 
yourself!" 

"  Not  I,  you  cub  !"  thundered  the  showman.  "  Fetch 
them  yourself,  or  I'll  set  the  bird  on  you  !" 

The  poor  Dutchman,  in  mortal  terror,  trembled  for 
his  life.  He  was  regularly  cornered  now.  But  fright, 
like  hunger,  sharpens  wit,  so  he  set  the  tumblers  on  a 
long-handled  fire-shovel,  and  extending  his  arm  in  the 
fashion  of  a  fencer  making;  a  lunge,  he  contrived  to  de- 

O  O     / 

posit  the  punch  safely  before  the  precious  couple.  Links 
smiled  grimly,  and  nodded  to  the  bear,  as  he  raised  his 
glass  to  his  lips.  The  bear  capsized  the  tumbler  with 
his  snout  and  then  lapped  up  the  liquor,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  lick  his  lips  and  cock  his  red  eye  at  his 
master,  as  if  in  token  of  his  perfect  approbation.  As 
soon  as  he  had  finished,  he  looked  at  the  landlord,  who 
was  contemplating  the  strange  scene  with  open  eyes  and 
mouth,  and  uttered  a  fierce  growl. 

"More  punch!  don't  you  hear  him  ?"  roared  the 
showman. 

The  order  was  instantly  obeyed.  Bruin  made  away 
with  the  second  glass  as  speedily  as  he  mastered  the 
first.  He  drank  a  third  in  the  like  manner — but  refused 
a  fourth.  In  fact,  he  had  got  enough  ;  he  fairly  hiccup- 
ed — swayed  in  his  chair — rocked  his  head  from  side  to 
side  with  maudlin  gravity,  and  snorted. 

"  Te  tamt  trunken  peast !"  ejaculated  the  Dutchman. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  bear  heard  him  ;  for,  with  an  an 
gry  growl,  he  started  from  his  seat  and  made  for  the 
affrighted  landlord.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  latter  sought 
the  shelter  of  the  bar.  Over  it  and  him,  the  animal 


TIM    LINKS,    THE    SHOWMAN.  119 

rolled,  roaring  and  snarling,  smashing  glasses  and  de 
canters,  and  making  a  general  average  of  the  poor 
Dutchman's  stock  in  trade. 

''Take  him  off!  take  him  off!"  roared  Mynheer. 
«  Mine  tear  Mr.  Links.  Tink  of  my  poor  wife  and 
hopeless  little  vons !  I'll  forgive  your  debt — yes,  gra- 
shus!  I  won't  sharge  for  mein  crockery!  Murder! 
murder !"  And  here  his  voice  became  suddenly  extinct 
— he  was  paralyzed  with  terror — lying  on  his  back  be 
hind  the  bar  with  his  hands  and  feet  lifted  up,  like  the 
legs  of  a  whipped  poodle  begging  for  mercy.  Tim 
Links  surveyed  the  picture  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  That  'ere  does  me  good,"  said  he  ;  "it's  a  practi- 
kle  proof  of  a  theory  of  mine  when  I  fust  went  inter  the 
St.  Domingo  spekkleation,  'bout  the  superiority  of  an- 
nimle  over  human  natur.  That  'ere  poor  drivellen' 
creetur  ain't  of  no  account  'long  side  of  a  bar.  Well — 
well — the  crittur  brung  it  onto  himself! — heaving  a  tur 
key  into  my  teeth !  Come  here,  Ben  !" 

The  bear  reluctantly  obeyed — for  he  was  partial  to 
fat  Dutchmen — and  staggering  up  to  his  master,  permit 
ted  him  to  take  his  chain.  Tim,  who  was  none  of  the 
soberest,  tied  his  bear  into  a  hard  knot  to  avoid  losing 
him,  gathered  up  his  eagle,  pocketed  a  couple  of  vipers 
who  were  crawling  out  of  his  sleeve,  and  made  tracks 
for  the  'Institute.'  The  next  day,  the  unfortunate 
Dutchman  sold  out,  and  set  up  his  shingle  anew  upon 
Harlem  road.  His  hair,  which  was  once  as  black  as  jet, 
in  one  night  turned  as  white  as  snow  ;  and  whenever  his 
friends  commented  on  the  circumstance,  he  used  to  re 
count  his  unhappy  experience,  and  told  how  "  Dat 
tamt  Tim  Links — te  scamp — mit  his  puzzard  and  his 


120  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

snakes,  and  his  tamt  trunken  pear,  frightened  him  all 
over  so  pad  ash  never  was,  and  scart  all  de  plack  hair 
off  his  head  into  white,  yust  like  old  Santa  Glaus  upon 
te  sigri-poard ;"  and  from  that  time  forward  he  never 
ventured  to  declare  as  heretofore,  that  "  Goot  entertain 
ment  for  man  and  peast  might  be  found  rm'tin  de  prem- 
ishes." 

F.  A.  D. 


"TOO  MUCH  ALIKE i" 

IN  WHICH   IT  IS  SHOWN    SATISFACTORILY,  THAT    ARCHITECTS   SHOULD 
NEVER  PLAN  OR  ERECT  TWO  BUILDINGS  SIMILAR  IN  DESIGN. 

ONE  of  those  ludicrous,  but  singular  occurrences, 
which  will  sometimes  take  place  even  in  the  best  socie 
ty,  came  to  light  a  short  time  since  in  the  «  upper  ten' 
circle  of  a  neighbouring  city,  and  which  for  «  richness,7 
outvies  the  Oolong  and  cream-toast  of  our  old  acquain 
tance  Squeers,  emphatically!  We  have  asserted  that 
such  things  will  happen.  But  then  as  Mrs.  Partington 
would  say,  "it's  a  queer  world" — and  so  it  is!  But 
for  the  story. 

A  polished  little  French  gentleman  of  considerable 
wealth,  who  had  been  educated  in  the  highest  school 
of  politeness,  had  been  wedded  to  a  beautiful,  but 
showy  woman,  for  a  brief  period;  and  having,  with  his 
bride,  passed  the  hey-day  of  the  honey-moon  in  making 
the  tour  of  the  Northern  States,  concluded  to  settle  down 
in  Quakerdom.  After  a  little  search,  he  decided  upon 


"  TOO  MUCH  ALIKE!"  121 

locating  in  one  of  a  fine  block  of  houses  in  Hansom 
street,  a  row  of  buildings  erected  within  a  few  years, 
and  uniform  in  their  architecture,  inside  and  out.  The 
whole  block  was  occupied,  with  the  exception  of  that 
chosen  by  Monsieur,  who  furnished  it  forthwith,  in  the 
most  elegant  style,  and  took  possession. 

«  I  have  come  to  Philadelphee" — said  the  French 
gentleman  (and  he  tells  his  own  story  most  eloquently, 
and  innocently)  "  I  have  come  to  ze  city  vis  my  vife, 
an'  I  likes  him  var'  mooch.  I  go  vis  my  vife  to  look 
for  ze  grande  maison  vhich  sal  please  Madame — and  ve 
find  him,  numero  two  hon'red  twenty-three,  Hansom 
street.  I  secure  him,  I  furnish  him,  a  la  mode,  ve  settil 
down,  ve  live  var'  content — eh  bwn,  vot  you  sal  call 
<  com-ybr^-able' — a  V  Anglais.  I  hav'  foine  house, 
foine  compagnons,  ma  vife  var'  good — tres  bien  ! 

"  I  hav'  sometimes  ennui; — an'  I  go  to  ze  grand 
Opera.  Mon  Dieu  !  I  listen  to  TEDESCO  !  Ah  !  Mon 
sieur — zar'  be  but  une  Tedesco ;  var'  foine — magni- 
fique!  I  leave  ze  Opera,  I  come  home  to  ma  house,  ze 
garcon  open  ze  door,  I  come  in — and  I  look  for  Mad 
ame.  I  ask  •<  Vere  be  MadameT  Ze  servant  sai  «  Ma 
dame  retire.'  Tres  bien — it  is  right — Madame  fatigue. 
I  sit  down,  I  smoke  ma  cigare,  I  read  ze  Courier,  ze 
clock  strike  dix  heures — I  take  ze  lamp,  and  pass  to  ma 
chambre.  I  go  var'  still,  not  to  disturb  Madame,  who 
have  mooch  fatigue — I  open  ze  door,  I  place  ze  light  on 

ze  table,  I  turn  roun', MON  DIEU  !  I  foin  ze  jentle- 

man  sourS  Asleep  in  bed  vis  ma  vife. 

u  I  take  ze  jentleman  by  ze  arm,  and  I  call  to  him, 
var'  loud — <  Eh  bien.  Monsieur!  vot  you  do  in  ma 
bed  ?' 


122  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  He  start  up  var'  mooch,  an'  he  cry  <  Tieve !  robbair! 
murdair !  vot  you  do,  sair  ?' 

"  I  say  l  Pardonnez-moi,  monsieur,  que  diable  you  do 
in  ma  bed!' 

"  <  In  you  bed  ?' 

"  <  Oui,  monsieur' 

"  <No,  sair!"  he  say — <  it  is  my  bed — and  you  are 
dam  robbair,  I  sal  call  ze  voch.' 

"  <•  Monsieur' — I  say  to  him — <  it  is  not  you  bed.  It 
is  ma  bed — it  is  ma  house,  numero  two  hon'red  twen 
ty-tree,  Hansom  street — dis  is  ma  chambre,  ma  furniture, 
ma  carpet,  ma  curtain — zat  is  ma  vife !  Vot  you  sai, 
sir,  toarf?" 

"He  look  at  me  var'  strange — he  sit  up  in  ma  bed 
— he  look  at  ma  vife — he  look  at  me — he  rub  his  eye — 
an'  he  get  out  on  ze  floor. 

"  <  Monsieur  J — he  sai  to  me—'  I  beg  ten  touzan 
pardon.  I  hav'  maik  grande  mistaik.  Ma  house  is 
numero  two  hon'red  twenty-^ve,  Hansom  street — an'  / 
hav*  come  into  ze  wrong  door!  Excusez-moi.  I  sai 

maik  grande  apologe  to  Madame,  on  ze  morrow 1 

hav'  maik  var'  bad  mistaik !  Bonne  nuit,  Monsieur — 
pardonnez-moi  /' 

"He  hav'  go  down  stairs,  he  have  pass  out,  I  have 
see  ze  door  lock,  fast,  myself,  and  I  retire  vis  Madame. 

"But  I  no  loik  ze  maisons,  in  vot  you  call  Han 
som  street ;  and  nex'  day  I  go  to  ze  oflfees  vot  you  call 
V intelligence,  an'  I  get  me  house  in  Rue  du  Cantone ; 
— vot  you  sal  call,  a  V Anglais,  Canton  street — numero 
von  honored  tirty-von,  Canton  street.  I  have  move  ma 
property  from  numero  two  hon'red  twenty-tree,  Hansom 
street — vich  I  no  like,  be-gair  !  I  have  move  Madame 


"TOO  MUCH  ALIKE!"  123 

— ma  house  var'  fine — I  have  got  on  var'  well — tres 
bien. 

li  I  have  reside  at  numero  von  hon'red  tirty-von, 
Canton  street,  tree  little  veeks.  Ze  house  varj  mooch 
aloikj  but  I  have  been  content — ze  jentleman  maik  great 
apologe  to  ma  vife,  an'  he  call  un,  deux,  trois  times  to 
make  ze  same  to  me.  I  hav'  forgot  all  about  ze  grande 
mistaik,  an'  I  go  to  ze  play  vizout  Madame. 

"  I  come  home  to  ma  house,  var'  early — Madame 
have  retire,  an'  I  go  up  ze  stairs,  not  mooch  quick,  but 
I  reach  ze  door;  I  come  into  ma  chambre — ven,  Diable ! 
I  find  ze  jentleman  in  ma  bed,  once  more,  twoice! 

"  I  go  to  ze  bed,  I  seize  ze  jentleman  by  ze  troat,  an' 
I  sai — <  Eh  bien,  Monsieur  !  Vot  you  do  in  ma  bed,  two 
time — vonce  more,  ehT 

«  He  hav'  zhump  out  on  ze  floor, — he  rub  his  eye 
var'  mooch — he  choke  var'  bad — an'  he  sai,  <  Vot  you  do 
vis  ma  troat  ?' 

"  I  ask  him,  <  Vot  you  do  in  ma  bed,  sair  ?' 

"  <  It  is  not  your  bed,  by  gain' 

«  <  Not  rna  bed  V 

"  «  JVb  /  Monsieur,  it  is  my  bed.' 

«<  You  bed?  Monsieur., prenez  garde!  Is  zatyou 
bureau?  Zat  you  war'robe  ?  Zat  you  escritoire^ 
a-ha !  Zat  you  night-cap  ?  Zat  you  shirt  ?  Zat  you 
VIFE?  Sacre — Monsieur,  you  hav'  maik  var'  bad  mis 
taik  before,  you  hav'  maik  no  mistaik  zis  time.' 

«  <  Pardonnez-moi,  Monsieur' — he  say. 

«  <  No,  sair.  You  hav'  maik  mistaik  vonce,  but  zis 
is  numero  von  hon'red  tirty-von  Canton  street,  and  not 
numero  two  hon'red  twenty-tree  Hansom  street !  Vot 
you  sai  now,  sair?' 


124  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  <  Excusez-moi,  Monsieur,'  he  sai,  <I  have  maik 
great  mistaik  vonce,  and  two  day  back,  I  move  from 
numero  two  hon'red  twenty^e,  Hansom  street,  to  von 
honred  fo'rfy-TREE,  Canton  street!  I  hav'  now  maik 
mistaik  in  ze  front  door !'  He  maik  many  apologe — 
I  cink  he  have  maik  mistaik — he  put  on  ze  pantalon 
— he  bow  var'  polite — he — lie  go  out  ov  ma  house, 
monsieur ! 

"  I  pack  ma  furniture  nex'  day — I  go  to  ze  Balti 
more.  Be  gair!"  continued  the  French  gentleman,  as 
he  thrust  a  monstrous  pinch  of  snuff' into  his  nostrils — 
"  I  no  like  to  live  in  zat  Philadelphee : — ze  HOUSE  TOO 
MUCH  'LOIKE,  by  dam!" 

G.  P.  B. 


A  LIVE  YANKEE  "SNORED"  OUT! 

READER — do  you  snore  in  your  sleep  ? 

You  dorft*! — Well,  I  suppose  not!  I  never  yet  met 
the  individual  who  would  acknowledge  the  corn. 

Shall  I  tell  you  of  a  little  adventure  I  was  once  wit 
ness  to  with  a  c  snorer  ?' 

The  varieties  of  the  genus  <•  Snorer'  are  very  extended. 
There  is  your  quiet,  sighing,  unobtrusive  snorer — who 
always  has  « a  good  time'  at  it,  and  troubles  nobody. 
There  is  your  wheezing,  chuckling,  squeaking  snorer — 
who  makes  a  regular  business  of  it,  but  who  keeps  it  all 
<  in  the  family,'  and,  peradventure,  annoys  only  the 
partner  of  his  joys  and  sorrows.  There  is,  also,  your 


A    LIVE    YANKEE    "  SNORED"    OUT !  125 

nasal  grumbler,  (who  sleeps  in  the  next  room!)  who 
mumbles  and  grunts — and  gets  over  it. 

But  if  there  be  under  Heaven  any  object  of  pity — one 
that  should  excite  the  sympathy  of*the  benevolently 
disposed — more  than  another,  commend  me  to  your  ge 
nuine^  out-and-out  snorer ! 

To  appreciate  his  qualities  fully — you  should  be  fa 
tigued  and  restless  yourself — after  a  three  days'  journey 
over  a  thumping  bad  road,  and  you  shall  run  athwart 
him,  where  the  steamboat  line  connects,  at  a  late  hour  in 
the  night.  You  shall  retire  to  one  of  the  few  cots  left — 
which  you  find  stretched  in  the  centre  of  the  cabin  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  last  comers — and,  after  the  dread 
ful  jolting  you  have  passed  through  for  the  previous 
twenty-four  or  forty-eight  hours,  as  the  case  may  be,  you 
shall  regale  yourself,  imaginatively  (during  the  process 
of  undressing),  with  the  prospective  enjoyment  which 
Nature's  sweet  restorer  has  in  reserve  for  you ! 

Your  weary  head  touches  the  pillow,  but  an  unusual 
nervousness  troubles  you  ;  and,  despite  your  most  earnest 
endeavours,  it  is  midnight  before  you  can  compose 
yourself.  You  are  at  last  worn  out  with  tossing  and 
turning — and,  though  the  night 'is  warm  and  the  vermin 
are  active — you  are  determined  to  sleep. 

For  the  last  half-hour  you  have  been  listening  to  what 
you  imagined  distant  thunder  (you  are  c  afraid  of  light 
ning'),  and,  at  the  instant  you  have  concluded  to  resign 
yourself  to  the  embrace  of  Morpheus,  your  eyes  are  sud 
denly  agape,  wide  open,  and  as  your  brow  is  slightly 
knitted,  you  involuntarily  ask  yourself,  "  What's  that0?" 

In  reply  to  your  interrogatory,  a  sort  of  explosion 
takes  place — a  miniature  eruption  of  Vesuvius,  a  blast— 


126  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  whoo oof-p  T"* — and  the  sound  rolls  away  in  a 

long-drawn,  unearthly  sigh — like  the  last  effort  of  a 
suffocating  man  to  recover  his  breath — and  all  is  silent 
again.  • 

In  such  a  plight,  and  at  such  a  time — some  years  ago, 
I  remember  to  have  met  a  Yankee  in  the  cabin  of  a 
crowded  canal  packet. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  he  came  on  board,  at 
Pittsburgh,  from  one  of  the  Ohio  river  steamers.  He 
was  a  very  plain  man,  and  had  been  «  out  west,'  so  he 
said — and  was  satisfied  to  go  home  again ! 

The  cabin  was  crammed,  and  an  <  upright'  was  allot 
ted  him  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  with  some  others. 
He  was  a  live  Yankee — and  occupied  some  considerable 
time  in  undressing,  securing  his  watch,  adjusting-  the 
bed-clothes,  and  caring  for  his  « tin' — which  he  stowed 
away  under  the  pillow.  He  finally  mounted  the  piece 
of  furniture,  which  some  lady-writer  compares  to  <a 
fence-rail,  covered  with  two  strips  of  tape,'  and  stretched 
himself  out  for  the  night. 

For  a  long  time  he  tossed  uneasily  in  his  cot,  muttering 
to  himself  something  about  being  "  shelved  up  between 
heaven  and  airth" — but  he  finally  turned  over,  as  I 
supposed,  for  the  last  time — when  a  fellow7  on  his  extreme 
right,  near  the  door,  who  had  evidently  been  getting 
ready  for  some  minutes — burst  out  with — 

«  Aka r-r  roo wh-e — u !" 

Had  a  thunderbolt  struck  the  Yankee  upon  the  crown, 
he  wouldn't  have  re-ached  the  cabin  floor  quicker  than 
he  did  as  it  was!  And  there  he  stood  <  in  his  tracks' — 
his  teeth  chattering,  his  eyes  -distended,  with  both  hands 
grasping  the  side-rail  of  his  cot — as  he  yelped  out — 


A    LIVE    YANKEE    «  SNORED"    OUT !  127 


« Hel-tow  /" 
"  Phoo — o — 


"Wot'sMof?" 

The  unconscious  sleeper  was  relieved,  momentarily  — 
and  he  vouchsafed  no  answer. 

The  Yankee  gazed  about  the  cabin  cautiously  —  but 
his  fellow-lodgers  were  all  sound  asleep  apparently,  and 
the  quiet  rippling  of  the  water  against  the  sides  of  our 
frail  boat,  was  all  that  now  broke  the  silence. 

Again  he  mounted  the  cot,  and  at  the  moment  I  had 
supposed  he  had  at  last  gone  to  the  '  land  of  nod7  for 
the  night  —  another 

"  Ker-r-r  —  cthee-e  -  whoo  /"  burst  from  the  throat 
of  the  snorer  on  his  right,  who  had  nowf  got  the  steam 
well  up.  While  the  stranger  started  up  to  look  for  the 
cause  —  a 

«Per  —  shee  -  swelu  —  ooh,"  escaped  the  grunter, 
and  our  Yankee  could  contain  himself  no  longer.  With 
one  bound  he  sprang  to  the  floor  —  with 

"  Uel-low  —  I  say  -  " 

«  Ah—  phoo  !" 

"  Thunder  and  airthquakes  !"  — 

«Wh—  e—  w!" 

"Wot  wit?"  - 

"  Ar-ker-ker  -  sloo  —  oo"  — 


«  'Tchoo  -  " 

"  No,  it  ain't  me  -  " 

«  Er  —  y  —  heu  !" 

«  Blast  your  pictur  —  it  ain't  /"  — 

«  Ah  -  tish  /" 

»  I  say  yer  lie!9 


128  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

«  Er— a— hoo  ! " 

"  Wy,  it's  you — yerself,"  continued  the  Yankee, 
approaching  him  cautiously — "  and  yer've  made  noise 
enough  to  skeer  the  divil,  or  stop  a  camp-meet'n !" 

As  he  placed  his  hand  upon  the  snorer's  breast,  a 
sudden  "  whoof.!"  escaped  him,  and  the  Yankee  could 
bear  no  more ! 

"Help,  yere!" 

"  Pshe — eu  !" — said  the  snorer. 

"Do/" 

"  Ah — shwoo " 

«  For  God's  sake !" 

a  Hup kir " 

«  Cap'n — help — yere!  The  man's  a  dyin' — I  say, 
Mister  /—Murder !— help !" 

By  this  time  the  cabin  was  in  a  roar — for  the  scene  in 
its  early  stages  had  awakened  most  of  the  crowd,  who 
had  enjoyed  it  right  heartily.  The  snorer  turned  over 
suddenly  upon  his  side,  and  the  effect  awakened  him. 

"What's  the  row,  neighbour?"  he  inquired  of  the 
Yankee,  who  stood  over  him  with  a  light. 

"  Raowl  Thunder  and  lightnin' ! — ain't  yer  dead 
yit  !  Wai,  I  reck'n  you're  one  uv  'em,  stranger!  Mishi- 
gan  thunder's  a  fool  to  yur'e  snorin' — by  grashus !  Ef 
I  sleep  in  this  yere  coop  to-night,  cuss  my  pictur!"  he 
added — and,  in  spite  of  all  the  captain's  assurances,  he 
went  out  upon  the  deck,  where  he  lay  till  morning. 

At  daylight  he  landed — and,  as  he  parted  with  the 
captain,  he  declared  that  he  had  "heern  powerful  thun 
der  in  his  time,  but  that  chap's  snoring  beat  all  the 
high-pressures  he  ever  heerd — jest  as  easy  as  open  and 
Bhet!5 

G.  P.  B. 


"WOBOT  BAKWYMAW." 

AN    ELECTION-DAY    SCENE,    IN    BOSTON. 

THE  annual  election  for  city  officials  occurred  in  the 
good  city  of  Boston,  on  Monday.  There  were  no  less 
than  <  six  Richmonds  in  the  field,'  on  this  occasion,  and 
the  prospect  appeared  promising — at  noon — that  before 
sunset,  a  Mayor  and  Common  Council  would  be  elect 
ed  for  the  current  political  year,  provided  they  didn't 
miss  it.  If  not  instructive,  it  was  at  least  amusing  to  be 
present  an  hour  at  the  polls.  Take  an  example. 

A  quiet-looking,  decent  enough  kind  of  man  ap 
proaches  the  door  of  one  of  the  Ward  rooms.  He  is 
clumsily  dressed,  it  is  true,  and  is  evidently  a  stranger 
in  these  parts.  His  antiquated  suit  and  apparent  inno 
cence  of  the  existence  of  such  an  article  of  wearing 
apparel  as  a  pair  of  boots — his  long-tailed  and  longer- 
sleeved  <  blue,'  his  low-crowned  «  felt' — all  indicated 
plainly  that  he  wasn't  «  bred  in  the  town.'  He  sees  the 
crowd  and  steps  over  the  way.  Some  half-a-score  of 
worthies  are  watching  him,  and  a  rush  is  made  as  he 
Arrives  near  the  door. 

"  Fresh  water  ticket,  sir?"  bawls  a  vote  distributor, 
m  a  greasy  coat  and  slouched  hat,  who  looks  for  all  the 
world  as  if  he  hadn't  been  within  hailing  distance  of 
any  water — fresh  or  foul — for  a  quarter  of  a  century. 

"  Cold  water  ticket,  sir?"  inquires  a  one-eyed 
who  sports  a  particularly  red  nose  below  it. 


130  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  Native  American,  sir  ?"  cries  a  third. 

"  Regular  Whig  ticket  ?"  asks  another ;  "  that's  your 
time  o'day,  sir!  No  malgamashin  in  that  ere;  Regular 
Whig." 

"Abolition,  sir?"  asks  a  fifth. 

"  Democrathic — rigelar  ?"  shouts  another. — "  No  bi- 
tin'  the  thum'  at  that,  sure.  Be  the  powers  !  but  we'll 
be  afther  hevin'  the  man  as'll  purtect  the  janeous  of 
liberthy,  and  the  rights  o'  the  paple,  at  large — and  none 
o'  your  spalpeens  as  'ul  be  gitting  up  a  row  agin  natre- 
lezashin — sure !" 

"  Whig,  sir?"  continues  number  four. 

"  Democrath,"  says  number  six,  again. 

"  Get  out,  with  your  d — d  loco," 

"  Who  dug  you  up  ?     I'll  prove  to  ye's '  - 

"This  is  the  ticket,  sir!" 

"Which?" 

"The  Regular  Wh " 

"No,  it  ain't!" 

"  I  knows  what  I " 

"No,  you  don't." 

"  I  go  for  equal  ri ." 

"  You're  a  mongrel." 

«A  what?" 

"  A  half  and  a  ha " 

"Where's  Bill  Smashem?" 

"  Here !"  answers  Bill. 

"I'm  KwhatV 

"You're  a  fool." 

"  You're  a  liar" whack! — awray  rolls  number  four 

across  the  street,  and  the  <  Regular'  tickets  are  scattered 
gratis  to  the  multitude.  Wrhile  the  sufferer  is  endeavour 
ing  to  gather  himself  up,  his  hat  is  caught  up  by  the  wind, 


131 

and  by  this  time  is  bounding  away  at  a  good  round 
seven-knot  rate,  our  country  friend  behind,  pursuing  it 
in  full  cry.  The  beaver  strikes  a  gas  post — Gawky 
makes  a  dive  for  it,  but  misses  the  hat,  crushes  the  crown 
of  his  own,  and  at  the  same  instant  nearly  dashes  out 
what  little  brains  he  has.  The  flying  hat  scuds  round 
the  corner,  and  Greeny,  nothing  daunted,  scuds  after 
it.  Away  goes  the  beaver— and  away  goes  Verdant — 
but — he  has  it  now  !  No,  he  hasn't — that  sidewalk  is 
very  slippery — but  Gawky  overtakes  the  hat,  and  urging 
himself  forward,  he  makes  one  desperate  effort  to  gain 
the  prize,  his  heels  unfortunately  go  up,  his  head  goes 
down,  the  hat  lodges  against  an  awning-post — and 
Verdant  finds  himself  plunged  head  foremost  into  an 
oyster  cellar! 

"  What  the  devil's  cumin  ?"  shouts  the  oyster  vender. 

"  Whew  /"  replies  Greeny. 

"You're  drunk,"  continues  <  shell  fish.' 

"  0  no,  I  hain't,"  gasps  the  victim — half  stunned  and 
staggering  from  the  shock. 

"  Yis,  you  air — you  can't  stan'  straight,  now  !" 

"  Guess  he's  hurt,"  ventures  the  attendant. 

"  Hold  yer  yawp,  spoony — who  axed  you  any  ques 
tions  ?" 

"I'm  wurwid  in  my  'ed,"  says  Greeny. 

«  Wurrid  in  yer  'ed  ?  So  I  shud  think.  Get  out  o' 
this."  . 

"  Don't  hurwy,  if  you  please.     You  see  I've — " 

"  Git  out,  I  say — you're  drunk" — and  the  unfortunate 
is  forthwith  ejected. 

Partially  recovered,  Verdant  grasps  the  hat,  and  re 
turns  triumphantly  to  the  Ward  room.  The  owner  is 


132  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

foaming  with  rage  and  fury  (having  come  out  second 
best  in  the  melee),  and  discovering  Greeny  with  his  hat, 
he  looks  upon  him  as  the  prime  cause  of  the  trouble, 
and  as  the  former  hands  him  his  beaver,  without  more 
ado  he  tenders  him  a  polk  in  the  eye,  which  lays  him 
sprawling  in  the  gutter.  By  this  time,  the  mischief 
having  all  been  done — an  officer  arrives,  and  the  parties 
are  forthwith  conveyed  to  the  Police  Court.  The  com 
plaint  is  made  in  due  form,  for  a  disturbance  of  the 
peace,  and  our  unlucky  friend  <with  the  lame  eye'  is 
placed  in  the  witness  box. 

«  Name?"  inquires  the  clerk. 

"  Sir?"  says  the  countryman — wiping  his  eye. 

"  Your  name,  sir  ?" 

«  Name  ?  oh  !     Wobot  Barwymaw." 

«  What,  sir?" 

«  Wobot  Barwymaw." 

"  Wobot  Barwymaw  7  No  trifling,  sir !  How  do  you 
spell  it  ?" 

"  R-O-B — Wob — E-R-T  Wobot — B-A-R-R-Y  Barwy — 
M-O-R-E — Barwymaw.  Wobot  Barwymaw." 

"  Ah  !  yes — I  see — Robert  Barrymore.  You  have 
an  impediment  in  your  speech  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What's  the  reason  you  don't  speak  intelligibly  ?" 
asked  the  court. 

"  The  weason  is  appawent — /  can'£." 

"  What's  the  occasion  of  it  ? 

«  Can't  say,  sir.     It's  herweditawy." 

"  Well,  sir — go  on  now  with  your  story." 

*<  Wot  stowy  ?"  innocently  inquired  the  witness. 

"What  story!  Do  you  know,  sir,  that  this  is  a 
Court  of  Justice  ?  What  are  vou  in  the  witness  box  for  ?v 


133 

"  I  weally  can't  say,  sir.  I'm  a  stwanger  here — and, 
as  I  was  stwolling  down  the  stweet,  I  met  a  cwowd 
wound  the  Ward-woom,  as  they  call  it — and  cwossed 
over  to  see  what  the  wow  was.  As  I  appwoached  the 
door,  I  saw  a  big  wuffian  stwike  a  man  in  the  face, 
and  knock  him  down.  His  hat  fell  off,  and  I  wun  to 
catch  it." 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence  about  that  affair — how  did 
you  get  injured?" 

"  The  consequence  of  it  might  have  been  sewious, 
I  think — for  the  hat  blew  wound  the  corner — and  I  wun 
after  it.  The  city  authowities  might  have  had  to  we- 
munewate  me  for  a  bwoken  skull — for  the  sidewalk  was 
so  slippewy  that  I  twipped  over,  and  wushed  headlong 
into  an  oysterman's  store." 

"  Did  you  receive  your  bruise  in  that  fall,  sir?" 

"Bless  your  innocence,  no!  I  weturned  with  the 
wefwactowy  gentleman's  hat,  and  as  I  appwoached  to 
pwesent  it  to  him,  'That's  my  man!'  says  he,  and 
without  further  cerwemony,  I  weceived  for  my  twouble 
this  horwid  black  eye.'* 

"Well,  sir." 

"  Well,  sir!  But  I  do  not  agwee  with  you  that  it  is 
(  well,  sir.'  This  bwoosing  a  man  for  such  a  act  of 
disinterested  fwiendship,  may  be  customawy  in  Boston, 
but  it  is  not  of  common  occurrence  in  Bwattkbowough, 
where  I  come  fwom." 

"Is  that  all,  sir?" 

"  I  don't  so  much  mind  the  bwoosing,  as  I  do  the 
wowdy's  pwinciple  in  this  twansaction;  and  it's  my  pwi- 
vate  opinion  that  the  bwute  ought  to  be  stwung  up  for 
his  wefwactowy  and  unchvvistian-like  wuffian  ism." 


134  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

The  court  smiled  at  our  friend's  innocence — im 
posed  a  fine  upon  the  belligerent,  and  the  parties  left 
the  court. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards,  Mr.  «  Wobot  Barwymaw' 
was  discovered  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city,  his  head 
enveloped  in  a  huge  bandanna — inquiring  if  there  was 
any  "  wail-woad  which  wun  from  Boston  to  Bwattle- 
bowough !" 

G.  P.  B. 


A,  GAME  AT  "  SEVEN-UP." 

"  TAKE  a  drink,  stranger?" — inquired  a  diminutive, 
gray-eyed  individual,  addressing  himself  to  me,  as  we 
sat  at  a  centre-table  in  the  cabin  of  a  Lake  steamer.  He 
continued  doggedly  to  stir  the  punch  which  the  steward 
had  just  handed  him,  and  repeated  his  invitation. — I 
declined. 

Having  disposed  of  a  second  <  smasher,'  he  tried  me 
again. 

"Busy,  stranger?" 

I  moved  to  him. 

"  Take  a  hand  at  seven-up,  sir?' 

I  assented  to  this  proposition,  to  kill  a  dreary  hour  or 
so,  and  my  challenger  immediately  drew  from  his  coat- 
pocket  the  necessary  documents  for  a  bout  at  «  old  sledge.' 
He  had  evidently  calculated  upon  '  pigeoning'  me,  and 
plainly  supposing  me  verdant,  he  coolly  deposited  under 


135 

the  candlestick,  a  five-tlollar  note  upon  one  of  the 
Western  <  Wild- Cat7  institutions.  I  immediately  co 
vered  it  with  a  V  upon  the  c  Lumbermans* .  Bank, 
which  some  blackguard  or  other  had  put  upon  me,  in 
my  travels,  for  a  good  one.  The  cards  were  dealt,  a 
brace  of  hands  were  played,  and  I  won  his  <  Red  Dog' 
hinplaster. 

"  Double  it,  stranger?" 

"As  you  please" — said  I,  carelessly — and  he  placed 
a  very  respectable-looking  X  upon  the  stakes. 

I  held  the  ace,  deuce,  and  ten  of  trumps,  and  my  lead 
drew  his  knave,  which  he  boarded  with  a  simultaneous 
call  upon  somebody  to  "  d — n  such  luck,"  and  upon 
the  steward  to  bring  him  another  punch  ! 

In  the  next  hand,  I  made  three  points,  and  beat  the 
game.  I  moved  towards  the  money,  but  he  prevented 
my  raising  it,  by  covering  it  with  a  twenty-spot,  where 
upon  he  gulped  down  the  balance  of  his  third  punch, 
and  dealt  the  cards  again. 

•  o 

The  liquor  by  this  time  had  commenced  to  operate 
upon  his  irritability,  and  I  so'on  discovered  him  to  be  a 
pugnacious  customer.  I  had  seen  ugly  little  men  before, 
however,  and  being  pretty  well  acquainted  with  the 
game,  having  nothing  at  stake,  and  contriving  to  keep 
perfectly  cool,  thus  far  I  had  my  gentleman  at  odds. 

I  was  in  luck!  I  held  all  the  cards,  and  made  four 
points.  In  the  second  hand  of  the  third  game,  I  made 
high,  low,  game,  and  <  skunked'  him,  outright,  again. 

The  play  had  now  become  somewhat  interesting — 
fceveral  spectators  had  gathered  around  the  table.  My 
opponent  insisted  that  the  money  should  lie,  and  he 
counted  out  his  forty  dollars.  He  was  getting  excited. 


136  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

The  fourth  round  was  more  fluctuating.  I  had  made 
but  three  points,  my  adversary  five.  He  dealt  me  an 
excellent  hand,  upon  which  I  <  begged,'  however;  be 
cause,  as  he  turned  his  cards,  he  volunteered  the  remark 
«  that  he  would  fix  me,  this  time !" 

"  Give  you  one — by  G — !" 

"  That  scores  me  four" — I  added  quietly. 

"  Four  to  my  five,"  he  answered.  "  Steward  !  an 
other  punch  on  this !" 

He  held  the  queen,  knave,  and  five  of  trumps.  I  led 
a  low  side-card,  upon  which  he  placed  a  ten  <  for  game.' 
He  returned  with  an  ace,  which  I  gave  him.  He 

<  swung'  with  his  queen,  which  I  took  with  my  king, 
and  following  with  my  ace  of  trumps,  I  had  his  knave 
again!     I  played  the  four  for  « low,'  which  scored  me 
three  upon  this  hand,  and  gift  made  me  seven — to  his 
score  and  c  game,'  which  counted  him  but  six  / 

As  he  dashed  his  fist  violently  upon  the  table  with  a 

«  d n !"  I  again  moved  towards  the  <  pile,'  which 

had  now  swelled  to  eighty  dollars — most  of  which  was 
in  good  money — but  he  motioned  me  back  with — 

"  Once  more,  if  you  please,  by  G — ,  stranger!" 

"  Have  it  your  own  way,"  I  replied,  and  he  planked 
his  eighty  dollars  on  the  other,  which  was  snugly  stowed 
beneath  the  foot  of  the  candlestick. 

Again  the  cards  were  dealt,  and  in  the  first  hand,  he 
made  three  points,  to  my  gift.  Three  vs.  one,  was  duly 
scored,  the  papers  went  round  again,  and  the  result  was 

<  four  hand.'     We  played  another  round,  upon  which  I 
was  doing  famously,  when  a  misdeal  was  discovered.     I 
humoured  him  (though  there  was  foul  play,  and  I  knew 
it),  the  cards  were  stocked,  and  the  deal  was  passed.     I 


A    GAME    OF    "SEVEN-UP. '  137 

cut  the  cards,  and  my  antagonist  (who  by  tnis  time  had 
become  especially  stupid  and  particularly  ugly)  shuffled 
them  in  the  clumsiest  possible  manner. 

We  stood  four  and  four.  I  held  a  hand  to  be  played 
for  a  man's  life, — the  ace,  queen,  knave,  and'  deuce  of 
trumps!  I  forthwith  played  the  deuce — which  'played 
the  deuce'  with  my  thick-headed  friend — for  he  couldn't 
follow  suit ! 

«  That's  High  and  Low— by  G— ,  for  all  me !"  he 
muttered,  as  I  gave  him  the  ace  of  another  suit,  and 
followed  it  with  the  queen.  The  game  was  up — I  held 
everything— never  was  there  such  <  a  run  of  luck  !' 

I  ushered  my  queen — followed  her  with  the  knave — 
and  then  boarded  the  ace  of  trumps — to  which  last  card 
my  opponent  did  not  answer. 

"  Another  mis — deal"— said  he,  slowly,  "  by  G — !" 

"  Not  too  fast,  my  friend,"  I  answered,  "  you  had  six 
cards." 

"  I  say  there's  an — other    misdeal — 'ic — stranger.^ 

"  You  are  mistaken,  sir.  There  is  your  sixth  card, 
under  the  table" 

"  Do  you  say — that's  my  card  ?" 

«  I  haven't  the  slightest  doubt  of  it." 

"  Who  in put  it  there  ?" — continued  the  ugly 

devil. 

"  Can't  say —  upon  my  soul — but  play  it  if  you 
please." 

"  Do  you  say  /put  it  there  ?"  said  the  fellow7,  refusing 
to  take  it  up — and  at  the  same  time  leisurely  rolling  up 
his  coat-cuffs. 

"  You  must  have  dropped  it,"  I  suggested. 

"  Do  you  say — 'ic — I  put  it  there  9" 
i 


138  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

I  could  bear  with  this  no  longer,  and  hastily  calculating 
my  chances  for  being  worsted,  I  laid  my  left  hand  upon 
the  money,  and  with  my  right,  I  seized  him  by  the  fore- 
top,  across  the  table,  as  he  attempted  to  rise  at  the  other 
side.  A  dirk-knife  gleamed  an  instant  in  the  light,  but 
with  a  sudden  effort,  I  brought  his  head  in  contact  with 
the  mahogany,  which  bewildered  him  while  I  wrenched 
the  dagger  from  his  hand  and  secured  I* argent.  The 

next  moment,  I  heard  the  rough  voice  of  Jack  W fY, 

the  first  officer  of  the  boat,  who  had  been  apprised  of 
the  rumpus,  below. 

As  the  blackleg  arose  upon  me,  Jack  tendered  him 
a  feeler,  under  the  ear,  which  sent  him  reeling  heels 
over  head  into  a  state-room  hard  by,  with  "  There,  d — n 
•you,  take  that,  and  go  to  bed  ;  you're  eternally  kicking 
up  a  muss  with  somebody  !"  and  turning  the  key  upon 
the  outside  of  the  door,  he  added — "past  twelve,  gen 
tlemen — no  more  cards  to-night,  if  you  please" — and 
he  left  the  cabin. 

We  arrived  at  C d  before  daybreak,  where  I  left 

the  boat;  since  which  time  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  my  friend  who  was  so  excessively  fond  of 
the  «  GAME  OF  SEVEN-UP.* 

G.  P.  B. 


THE  YANKEE  WHO  HAD  NEVER  HEARD  A 
GONG. 

MANY  a  good  story  is  recorded,  about  the  first  im 
pressions  consequent  upon  hearing  the  clang  of  a  gong. 
An  instance  recently  came  under  my  own  observation. 

A  traveller  from  <  up  country'  arrived  in  town  the 
other  evening,  and  having  been  shown  to  a  fashionable 
hotel  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  was  at  a  loss  for 
employment  for  the  time  being.  He  reached  the  house 
alter  tea  hour,  and  having  wandered  through  the  public 
rooms,  enjoying  the  c  sights'  for  a  while,  he  was  at  last 
shown  to  his  apartment,  at  a  very  seasonable  hour. 

Having  bestowed  himself  between  the  blankets,  he 
lay  tossing  about  for  an  hour,  excited  with  the  city's 
confusion,  and  being  naturally  nervous,  he  was  unable 
to  compose  himself  to  sleep.  Nature  gave  way  at  last, 
however ;  and  as  he  was  just  falling  into  a  fitful  slumber,  a 
low,  rumbling,  unearthly  sound  grated  on  his  ears  (ap 
parently  from  the  end  of  the  passage-way),  which 
gradually  increased  to  a  fearful  and  indescribable  hum. 

The  eyes  of  the  stranger  were  agape,  instanter — his 
gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  ceiling — the  dreadful  murmur  in 
creased — big  sweat-drops  stood  on.  his  forehead — and 
the  final  crash  of  the  preparatory  supper-gong  brought 
him  straight  into  his  boots !  He  rushed  into  the  desert 
ed  passage-way  with  his  pants  halfway  on,  and  upside 
down,  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  lungs- — 


140  STRAY    SUBJl  :TS. 

«  Hel-\o,  there !" 

The  sound  echoed  through  the  hall,  but  no  mswer 
followed. 

"  Hel-fo,  I  say !     Wot  on  airth  has  busted  ?" 

All  was  silent,  however,  and  an  immeasurably  brief 
space  of  time  only  had  elapsed,  before  the  countryman 
had  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  where  he  made  his 
appearance  with  hair  straight  on  end,  his  boots  over  his 
pants,  and  his  short- waisted,  swallow-tailed  blue  catch- 
ed  at  the  throat  by  a  single  button. 

He  dashed  into  the  office,  but  all  was  quiet — the  clerk 
was  at  his  books,  and  the  darkies  had  got  away  into  the 
corners,  to  steal  a  nap  before  the  arrival  of  the  night 
train.  Our  green  'un  spied  Sambo,  and  soon  had  him 
by  the  button-hole,  with — 

"  Wot's  that  noise?'7 

"  Didn't  hear  no  noise,  Massa." 

"  Didn't  hear  it  ?" 

"  Neber  heern  him,  Titohow,  Massa!" 

"  Why,  wot  on  airth  yer  made  uv?" 

Sambo  was  snoring  again. 

"  It  was  wus'n  forty  harricanes,"  continued  Greeny. 

"  'is — Massa" — continued  Sambo,  in  his  dream. 

"  And  ef  we  don't  have  a  shr  wer  arter^otf,  I  ain't  no 
judge  o'  thunder." 

Sambo  recovered,  and  turning  up  the  white  of  one 
eye,  astronomically,  he  vouchsafed  the  opinion  that  as 
it  was  "  a  clar  night,"  there  couldn't  be  no  funder." 

«  Wai,  but  /  heered  it,  I  tell  ye—" 

«  Not  funder,  Massa  — clar  moonlight— noff'n  to 
make  him  ob  up  dar,for  sartin !" 

«  Wai,  you  m-iy  think  I'm  drunk.  But  I  tell  you  I 
heern  an  airthquake,  any  how — and " 


THE  YANKEE  AND  THE  GONG.          141 

A  mint  rumbling  was  again  apparent  in  the  distance 
at  this  moment. 

"  There  it  is  agin!"  shouted  the  countryman,  as  he 
seized  Sambo  by  the  arm.  "There  ! — d'ye  hear  that  1" 

The  noise  continued  to  increase,  and  Sambo,  for 
getting  his  wonted  gravity,  began  to  grin. 

"  Wot  is  it — eh  ?  Say,  Sambo — yere's  a  quarter — 
a  half  "—(Sambo  pocketed  the  tin !)— «  Oh  !  the  Lord 
ha'  mercy!" 

And  away  rushed  our  victim  at  top  speed  ;  but  un 
fortunately,  he  entered  the  passage-way,  where  the 
servant  stood  in  the  act  of  sounding  the  last  gong  for 
supper!  The  hotel  was  full,  and  the  guests  were 
crowding  towards  the  dining-room. 

Our  valiant  Yankee  had  started  for  <  out-doors,'  but 
in  attempting  to  escape,  he  stumbled  upon  the  music, 
which  had  now  reached  that  horrible  din,  so  uncomfort 
able  to  the  ears  of  those  even  who  are  used  to  it.  With 
one  bound  and  a  shriek  of  "  Murder!"  he  cleared  both 
waiter  and  gong,  and  the  next  leap  carried  him,  heels 
over  head,  through  the  basement  window.  Fortunately, 
he  was  unhurt,  and  rolling  across  the  gutter,  he  regained 
his  feet  once  more. 

The  speed  with  which  he  enlarged  the  distance  be 
tween  himself  and  that  hotel,  would  have  shamed  one 
of  Norris's  best  locomotives !  The  last  that  was  seen  of 
the  sufferer,  he  was  rapidly  approaching  the  dock,  his 
narrow  coat-skirts  streaming  in  the  wind,  with  the  watch 
in  hot  pursuit — while  the  victim  made  night  hideous 
as  he  went  on,  with  his  desperate  yell  of  "  Murder! 
murder!  MURDER!" 

G.  P.  B. 


ONE  WAY  TO  SHARPEN  'EM. 

He  secretly 

Puts  pirate's  colours  out  at  both  our  sterns, 
That  we  might  fight  each  other  in  mistake, 
That  he  should  share  the  ruin  of  us  both  ! 

Crown's  Ambitious  Statesman. 

SOME  benevolently  disposed  individuals  have  latterly 
amused  themselves  with  severing  the  Telegraphic  wires, 
upon  the  arrival  of  the  English  steamers.  The  follow 
ing  sketch  is  respectfully  commended  to  the  especial 
attention  of  these  gentlemen !  The  occurrence  related 
took  place  last  fall,  in  one  of  our  Western  cities. 

The  mercantile  community  there  had  been  on  the  qui 
vive  for  a  week,  expecting  daily  to  hear  of  the  arrival  of 
the  steamer,  which  had  been  out  considerably  beyond 
her  time.  At  the  last  arrival  from  England,  flour  had 
<  moved  up'  sharply  in  price — all  the  horrors  attendant 
upon  <•  potato  disease,'  <  short  crops,'  'lack  of  American 
produce,'  etc.,  etc.,  had  been  duly  chronicled — and  the 
commercial  appetite  was  in  a  state  to  swallow  anything 
that  might  follow,  leaving  time  to  digest  it  for  them  ! 
Every  mail  was  consequently  looked  for  with  the  deep 
est  anxiety :  and  every  arrival  in  town  was  the  occasion 
for  renewed  interrogatories,  touching  the  probable  char 
acter  of  the  news  anticipated.  Expectation  was  on  tip 
toe,  every  eye  was  <  opened  tight,'  and  every  ear  war 
ready  to  catch  the  first  intelligence  which  might  come, 
when  early  one  morning,  a  rough-looking  customer  sud- 


143 

denly  entered  the  town  at  full  gallop,  upon  a  jaded 
horse  (which  had  evidently  been  rowelled  to  the  top  of 
his  speed  for  a  long  distance).  He  drew  up  abruptly  in 
front  of  a  well-known  hotel  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city, 
sprang  from  his  saddle,  dropped  a  silver  dollar  into  the 
hands  of  the  ready  waiter  who  received  the  rein,  and 
disappeared  inside  the  house.  His  reeking  and  panting 
animal  was  left  in  his  tracks,  -while  the  stranger  darted 
into  the  hotel,  and  booked  himself  "  JOHN  SMITH — 
Wheeling,  Yd." 

Mr.  Smith  had  no  luggage  with  him — not  even  a 
«  carpet-bag.'  His  mud-bespattered  dress  told  full  well 
of  the  <  night  he'd  had  of  it,'  and  he  hastily  informed 
the  landlord,  in  a  confidential  way,  that  the  "  steamer 
was  in,"  that  "he  had  ridden  two  hundred  miles  on 
horseback,  in  the  last  twelve  hours" — and  concluded 
his  brief  account  of  himself  by  adding  with  a  knowing 
wink,  that  "  no  other  journal  had  the  news  !"  Mr. 
Smith  requested  that  his  crittur  might  be  cared  for,  and 
well  rubbed,  for  he  had  «  had  a  desperate  ride,"  and, 
gulping  down  a  cobler,  was  soon  out  of  sight. 

The  announcement  of  the  steamer's  arrival,  of  course, 
ran  like  wildfire  through  the  city  ;  and  everybody  knew 
that  an  c  express'  had  reached  town  with  her  news— but 
no  one  could  get  at  it !  Mr.  Smith  walked  straight  into 
the  flour  market,  but  the  sharpers  had  heard  of  his 
coming! 

«  What's  the  price  of  flour?"  asked  Mr.  Smith,  of  an 
extensive  dealer. 

"  Five  dollars — last  night,  sir." 

"  They  say  the  steamer's  in,"  says  Smith. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  seller. 


144  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

«  And  flour's  riz  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I  want  a  thousand  barrels." 

"  At  what  price  ?" 

"  Say  five  and  an  eighth." 

«  You  can't  have  it." 

«<  Five  and  a  quarter,  then." 

"  No,  sir/" 

«  Well,  then,  five  and  three-eighths." 

"  JVb,  sir-eel" 

"  I'll  give  you  five  and  a  half — a  thousand  barrels— 
cash  down." 

"  JVb,  sir — I  shall  wait  a  while." 

Away  goes  Smith,  down  the  street — the  dealer  goes 
into  the  market — flour  rises  half  a  dollar — a  dollar — 
a  dollar  and  a  quarter  per  barrel — but  still  the  knowin* 
"uns  <  hold  on  !' 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?" 

«  Who  ?" 

«  Smith." 

"What  Smith?" 

ccjohn " 

««  The  <  Express'  ?" 

^Yes." 

«No!" 

"Just  arrived." 

«  Well  ?" 

«  Steamer's  in." 

"  What  news  ?" 

"  Flour's  up." 

"Good!" 

«  Potatoes  all  gone." 

«  Better  /" 


ONE    WAY    TO    SHARPEN    'EM.  145 

"No  American  produce  t'other  side." 

«BEST!!"  and  off  goes  <  gulled  No.  2,'  to  give  his 
friends  the  benefit  of  what  he  has  learnt ! 

Smith  enters  a  store  below,  buys  five  hundred  barrels, 
at  five  dollars,  deliverable  in  one  hour,  five  hundred,  at 
same  price,  deliverable  in  two  hours,  five  hundred  de 
liverable  after  one  o'clock — takes  his  bills,  with  the 
agreement  attached — and  slopes. 

"  There  he  goes." 

"Who?" 

«  Smith." 

"The  Express?" 

"Yes." 

«  Where  ?" 

"There!" 

«  Which  one  ?" 

«  The  white  hat " 

"  Round  the  corner?" 

"  Yes!"  and  away  runs  < gulled  No.  3,'  to  learn  from 
Mr.  Smith  how  he  can  <  operate'  to  the  best  advantage. 
Mr.  Smith  happens  to  know  of  a  <  capital  chance,'  (all 
confidential  though),  where  he  can  buy  a  thousand  bar 
rels,  at  six  dollars — very  happy  to  accommodate  him  ; 
will  step  right  over  the  way,  (nothing  to  be  said  about 

it  however) and  <  gulled  No.  3'  buys  Mr.  Smith's 

flour ,  pays  him  his  bonus,  they  take  a  drink,  and  part 
the  very  best  friends  in  the  world.  Catch  «  No.  3'  nap 
ping,  if  you  can  !  He's  one  of  'em,  and  has  been  there  ! 
He  meets  « No.  2,'  and  a  nice  talk  they  have  over  their 
luck! 

But  the  hubbub  increases !  Mr.  Smith  hasn't  been 
seen  for  an  hour,  and  another  man,  in  a  light  gray  suit, 


146  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

with  heavy  black  whiskers  and  a  slouched  cap,  has  arri 
ved  from  the  Eastward,  bringing  a  slip  headed  «  New 
York  Herald — Extra."  He  is  covered  with  dirt,  though 
— and  an  £  enterprising  journal'  nabs  him,  and  secures 
the  important  intelligence,  in  advance  of  all  its  cotempo- 
raries.  The  journal  aforesaid  <  spares  no  expense'  in 
this  sort  of  thing,  and  the  last  comer  has  got  his  hundred 
dollars  for  that  job  ! 

A  flaring  <  EXTRA'  immediately  finds  its  way  into  the 
streets,  announcing  the 

ARRIVAL  OF  THE  STEAMER 

HIGHLY  IMPORTANT!! 
SCARCITY    OF     FLOUR! 

NO    POTATOES    IN    IRELAND1. 

CORN  IN  DEMAND! 
COTTON   ADVANCING!! 

And  long  before  the  hour  for  delivery  agreed  upon  ar 
rives,  our  Express  has  sold  out  at  a  clean  profit  of  a 
thousand  dollars!  Not  a  barrel  of  flour  can  be  had  at 
anything  like  a  price,  and  our  dealers  <  No.  1'  still 
1  hold  on'  for  higher  rates. 

Mr.  Smith  has  pressing  engagements,  '  No.  3'  dines 
with  him,  and  insists  upon  paying  Smith's  bill,  (in  con 
sideration  of  the  great  service  he  has  rendered  him !) 
and,  shortly  after,  Mr.  Smith  is  seen  riding  briskly  out 
of  town  on  his  way  to  Louisville. 

On  the  following  morning,  the  mail  arrives,  and  the 
details  of  the  «  news  brought  by  the  steamer'  appear  in 
all  the  Eastern  journals.  Unfortunately,  the  boot  is  on 
the  wrong  leg !  Upon  examination  of  the  papers,  the 
story  is  told!  Flour  h?d  actually  fallen  in  price  from 


NEWSPAPER    ADVERTISEMENTS.  147 

last  quotations,  the  '  potato  rot'  had  been  greatly  exag 
gerated,  the  English  market  was  well  stocked  with 
American  produce,  sales  were  very  light,  and  the  de 
mand  inactive ! 

But  the  thing  was  up  !  Mr.  Smith  was  a  <  Diddler,7 
the  slips  were  manufactured  a  few  miles  out  of  town, 
express-^  for  the  purpose,  the  first  and  second  <  Ex 
press'  were  the  same — barring  the  change  of  chapeau, 
breeches  and  whiskers, — but  the  c  bird'  had  flown  !  Our 
enterprising  journal,  which  had  purchased  the  news,  in 
company  with  its  sharp  friends,  had  been  skewered; 
their  competitors  enjoyed  the  hoax  right  heartily,  and  to 
this  day,  upon  the  arrival  of  an  Express  rider  in  the  city 

of  C ,  you  may  hear  the  questions  repeated  from 

a  hundred  mouths — "Does  he  wear  a  slouched  capV 
or,  «  Did  he  come  without  A  CARPET-BAG  ?" 

G.  P.  B. 


NEWSPAPER  ADVERTISEMENTS. 

A  NEWSPAPER  reader  who  regularly  consults  the  adver 
tising  columns  of  a  daily  journal,  rarely  fails  to  meet 
with  many  things  conducive  both  to  his  advantage  and 
enjoyment.  Guided  by  unerring  faith,  he  will  there 
find  a  remedy  for  almost  every  ill  that  flesh  is  heir  to, 
and  encouraging  examples  held  out  of  human  beings 
who  have  been  almost  entirely  used  up,  and  yet  restored 
to  perfect  health  by  the  use  of  only  six  bottles  of  the 
celebrated  Dr.  Gullem's  Vegetable  Anti-Mercurial  Ca- 
tholicon.  Among  these,  he  will  read  of  the  <  Celebrated 


148  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

Sufferer'  who  c  laboured  under  a  complication  of  all  the 
disorders  known  to  the  Medical  Faculty,'  and  <  \vho 
was  reduced  to  such  a  state  as  to  be  loathsome  to  his 
friends  and  disgusting  to  himself,' — <  who  had  been 
measured  for  a  coffin,  and  purchased  a  resting-place  in 
Mount  Auburn' — and  who,  <  by  simply  inhaling  the 
odour  of  one  of  Dr.  Van  Humbug's  bottles  of  Antiseptic 
Elixir,  was  instantaneously  restored  to  perfect  health,' 
and  <  became  in  one  fortnight  the  ornament  of  the  social 
circle  and  the  happy  husband  of  one  of  the  most  charm 
ing  women  in  the  world.'  The  musical  gentleman  will 
find  something  about  the  forthcoming  concert  of  some 
foreign  signor  or  monsieur,  who,  according  to  his  line, 
is  either  first  tenor,  or  first  violinist,  or  first  flautist,  or 
first  pianist  to  the  king  of  Bavaria,  who,  if  we  believe 
all  the  advertisements,  is  one  of  the  most  extraordinary 
patrons  of  music  among  the  crowned  heads  of  the  conti 
nent,  employing  many  hundreds  of  musicians  at  enor 
mous  salaries,  and  allowing  all  of  them  perpetual  leave 
of  absence  to  give  concerts  on  their  own  hook  in 
England  and  America.  The  theatre-going  man  will 
find  «  the  small  bill,'  so  often  abruptly  referred  to  in  the 
larger  and  more  dignified  «  William,'  where  he  will  be 
lieve,  if  he  be  sufficiently  credulous,  that  all  the  charac 
ters  down  to  the  £  dummies,'  are  supported  by  gentlemen 
from  the  Royal  Theatres  of  London,  and  will  invoke 
silent  blessings  on  the  magnanimity  of  Mr.  Snuffles  or 
Mr.  Smithers,  who,  after  many  a  brilliant  triumph  at 
Drury  Lane,  consents  to  carry  off  two  chairs  and  a  table 
in  one  clutch,  for  the  gratification  and  instruction  of  a 
Boston  public.  The  general  reader  will  be  astonished 
to  learn  that  £  any  young  man  who  has  $200  to  loan  his 


'We  conjured  up  the  image  of  the  tall  young  man  of  twenty,  launching  forth 
into  the  great  commercial  emporium." — Page  119, 


NEWSPAPER    ADVERTISEMENTS.  149 

employer,  can  have  a  chance  of  permanent  occupation 
in  a  genteel  and  pleasant  business,  which  will  be  guaran 
tied  to  yield  him  an  income  of  $1500  per  annum.' 

With  all  these  wonders  in  the  advertising  columns, 
we  hold  the  legitimate  owner  of  a  newspaper,  that  is,  the 
man  who  has  honestly  paid  for  a  copy,  very  much  to 
blame  if  he  neglects  making  himself  familiar  with  that 
portion  of  the  sheet.  We  would  not  advise  the  hotel 
boarder,  or  the  frequenter  of  the  barber's  shop,  to  be  so 
accurate,  for  he  may  rest  assured  that  the  time  during 
which  he  detains  his  fellows  from  the  perusal  of  the  news 
of  the  day,  will  assuredly  be  passed  by  them  in  reflect 
ing  on  his  faults,  or  pondering  on  the  means  of  rendering 
the  remainder  of  his  life  perfectly  wretched  and  uncom 
fortable. 

Be  this  as  it  may — there  are  queer  things  among  the 
advertisements — very.  We  always  ferret  among  them 
in  search  of  fun,  or  suggestive  ideas,  and  we  are  not 
often  disappointed.  We  came  across  the  following  in  the 
New  York  Sun  the  other  day — 

"  There  is  a  man  going  round  the  city  selling 
muslin  for  linetf  — he  is  a  tall  young  man,  seems  to  be 
about  twenty  years  of  age ;  it  will  be  better  for  him  to 
bring  back  the  pantaloons  that  he  got  in  trade  on  Wed 
nesday  evening,  if  he  does  not  he  will  be  brought  back." 

WTe  don't  know  whether  the  above  will  strike  others 
as  it  did  us — to  our  imagination  it  conveyed  a  very 
amusing  picture.  First,  we  conjured  up  the  image  of 
the  tall  young  man  of  twenty,  launching  forth  into  the 
great  commercial  emporium  (after  having  probably  served 
a  thorough  apprenticeship  at  <  thimble-rigging,'  and 
<  watch-burning,')  with  the  bold  and  hardy  determination, 


150  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

worthy  of  a  better  cause,  to  pass  off  muslin  (New  York 
for  cotton]  for  linen.  What  a  contemptuous  opinion  of 
the  intellects  of  Gotham  the  tall  young  man  of  twenty 
must  entertain  as  a  basis  for  his  project !  Then  we  pic 
tured  a  very  soft-spoken  and  very  verdant  gentleman  in 
sewed  boots  and  an  intellectual-feoking  hat,  with  a  mild 
description  of  checked  gingham  for  a  neckcloth,  who 
meets  the  audacious  pedlar,  falls  into  the  trap,  sees  no 
muslin  in  the  sanguine  and  blooming  view  he  takes  of  a 
shirt- pattern,  and  parts  with  an  excellent  pair  of  doe 
skins,  which  he  has  worn  but  once,  for  an  article  dear  at 
four  shillings — York  currency. 

'  But  with  the  morning 
Cool  reflection  comes.* 

An  astute  matron — his  housekeeper  perhaps — at  one 
dexterous  tweak,  accompanied  by  one  flash  of  a  pair  of 
horn-bowed  spectacles,  detects  the  imposition.  The 
verdant  gentleman  in  the  intellectual  hat,  sinks  into  a 
chair  beneath  the  mingled  pressure  of  shame  and  indig 
nation,  and  only  rouses  therefrom  in  the  first  rush  of  an 
inspiration,  under  the  influence  of  which  he  pens  the  ad 
vertisement  we  have  copied,  and  which  cost  him  six 
shillings  (York  again),  for  inser  m  in  the  Sun.  It 
never  occurs  to  him  that  the  « tall  young  man  of  twenty' 
would  snap  his  fingers  at  the  threat,  well  knowing  that 
if  his  victim  knew  where  to  find  him  or  could  prove  his 
guilt,  he  would  at  once  place  a  <  Star'  policeman  on  his 
track,  instead  of  uttering  vague  threats  and  cautions  in 
the  newspapers.  Happily  ignorant  of  this,  the  soft 
headed  gentleman  buttons  his  muslin  shirt  to  his  throat, 
and  indulges  in  a  romantic  vision  of  a  return  of  the  <  tall 
}oung  gentleman  of  twenty,'  in  penitential'tears,  with  the 


HOW    WE    SMOKED    HIM    OUT.  151 

doeskins  neatly  folded  on  his  arm — those  doeskins  that 
have  seen  the  light  but  once  in  the  summer  stillness  of  a 
Sabbath  day  at  Harlem.  Queer  things — these  adver 
tisements  ! 

F.  A.  D. 


HOW  WE  SMOKED  HIM  OUT. 

To  the  multitude  acquainted  with  the  miseries  and 
mysteries  of  a  <  first-rate  boarding-house'  in  New  York 
— the  following  sketch  contains  but  little  interest.  The 
many  who  have  never  been  <  thar^  however,  may  disco 
ver  a  sort  of  philosophy  in  the  story  ;  and  should  any  find 
themselves  similarly  circumstanced,  let  them  adopt  a 
like  remedy,  and  4  take  our  hat'  if  the  <  critter  is  n't 
druv  out !' 

In  the  year  183 — ,  I  had  taken  lodgings  in  a  *  respect 
able'  boarding-place  in street,  and  a  four  months' 

residence  had  fairly  initiated  me.  I  was  scarcely  twenty, 
yet  I  had  been  plundered  of  my  wardrobe,  by  a  stran 
ger,  who  was  <  stopping  only  a  day  or  two ;'  I  had  paid 
the  supper-bills  at  r>elmonico's  for  half-a-score  of  the 
knowin'  ones,  who  had  invited  me  to  participate  with 
them,  and  who  had  either  « left  their  pocket-books  at 
home,'  or  who  had  prematurely  <  stepped  out,'  as  I  was 
finishing  my  last  cup  of  chocolate.  I  had  run  the 
« neflfy'  gauntlet,  and  was  perfectly  well  acquainted  with 
the  shortest  cut  both  to  and  from  Passandro's !  I  had 
been  four  months  in  Gotham — and  it  was  midsummer. 

The  good  lady  of  the  house  was  one  of  the  few  who 
paid  her  bills,  regularly.  And  well  she  might '  Her 


152  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

house  was  always  filled,  and  'three  in  a  room'  was  a 
moderate  allowance.  Two  beds  in  my  own  apartment 
were  occupied ;  the  third  had  been  vacant  for  a  week. 
An  applicant  came — he  was  one  of 'em — a  *  transient  gen 
tleman  from  the  West  Indies' — and  he  had  the  pleasure 
of  being  shown  to  the  unoccopied  cot  in  our  room.  My 
chum  and  I  had  returned  from  an  evening  call  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  found  the  intruder  safely,  stowed  away  for 
the  night.  It  was  hardly  the  thing,  this — (we  had  been 
victimized  once) — and  we  put  ourselves  immediately  on 
the  defensive.  The  stranger  \vas  awake,  and  muttered 
something  in  half  French,  half  English — about  his  being 
disturbed  by  our  entrance.  An  exchange  of  glances 
between  Bill  and  myself  fixed  the  matter,  and  we  com 
menced  operations  forthwith. 

As  I  have  said,  it  was  July.  The  thermometer 
had  ranged  well  up  to  95°  throughout  the  day,  and  the 
night  was  oppressively  close  and  sultry.  I  immediately 
closed  the  two  windows,  with  an  affected  shudder  at  the 
chilly  night  air,  my  room-mate  shut  the  door,  and  I  rang 
the  bell.  The  servant  promptly  responded  to  the  sum 
mons. 

"Jerry — a  scuttle  of  coal,  and  some  kindlings  !" 

"A  what,  sir?" 

"A  hod  of  anthracite,  sir;  and  bear  a  hand,  too. 
We  want  a  fire." 

A  half  snicker  passed  over  Jerry's  countenance  as  he 
left  the  door  of  the  chamber — but  he  returned  very 
shortly,  puffing  and  blowing  with  the  exertion,  (for  the 
weather  was  intensely  hot !)  and  placed  a  scuttle  of 
coal,  etc.,  at  our  disposal. 

«  Anything  more,  sir  ?" 


HOW    WE    SMOKED    HIM    OUT.  153 

"Yes.     Go  to ,  the  chandler's,  and  bring  me 

half-a-dozen  bundles  of  « short  six'  cigars." 

"  Short-sixes,  sir!" 

"  Short  sixes,  Jerry — green  ones,  if  he  has  them." 

Five  minutes  only  elapsed  before  Jerry  returned  with 
a  choice  collection  of  abbreviated  <  nines' — so  green  that 
they  were  black  ! 

"Nothing  more,  sir?" 

"  Nothing  now,  Jerry — but  look  sharp  at  the  bell." 

"  Yes,  sir" — and  Jerry  vanished. 

Meantime  we  had  cleared  the  pipe — the  fire  was  well 
under  way,  and  we  shortly  afterwards  discovered  the 
quicksilver  at  103 !  But  still  we  shuddered,  and  Bill 
continued  to  clear  the  grate,  complaining  of  the  '  lack 
of  draught,'  while  we  jointly  blazed  away  at  the  <  sixes' 
— the  atmosphere  in  the  apartment  having  by  this  time 
become  so  dense  and  clogged  with  heat  and  the  burning 
of  green  Virginia  tobacco,  saturated  with  vitriol  water 
— that  it  was  absolutely  choking. 

Our  dark-brown  friend  turned  uneasily  upon  his 
featJier  bed.  A  stifled  "  whew !"  or  two  was  all  that 
had  as  yet  escaped  him,  however.  He  turned  again, 
and  threw  the  coverlet  upon  the  foot-board. 

Bill  came  to  his  aid  at  once !  The  poker  rang  beneath 
the  grate — another  peck  of  anthracite  was  deposited  in 
the  cylinder  stove — the  stub  of  his  half-smoked  cigar 
was  thrown  upon  the  red-hot  cover — the  fire  blazed 
again,  and  our  West  India-man  dashed  his  sweat-moist 
ened  sheet  upon  the  carpet,  with — 

"  Sacre  ! — Got,  dam  !     I  sal  be  pinch  all  up !" 

"What  did  you  observe,  sir?"  inquired  Bill,  as  he 
coolly  lighted  another  six. 

K 


154  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  Hah !    Be  gar,  I  sal  die  wis  zis" — 

" Subject  to  the  cramp,  sir?"  said  I,  affecting  to  mis- 
undeistand  him. 

"  Cramb  !  Wot  you  call  dat  cramb  ?  You  cramb 
dein  sto'  pipe — by  gar,  sare,  I  sal  shoke  me,  in  my 
winepipe — by  dam  !" 

Bill  swore  the  fire  wouldn't  burn,  and  that  he  should 
freeze,  if  he  couldn't  do  something  to  warm  the  room. 

Our  new-comer  tossed  from  one  side  of  the  cot  to  the 
other — the  perspiration  rolling  from  his  body,  meanwhile 
— but  rny  affectionate  chum  still  plied  the  poker,  and  we 
continued  to  smoke,  and  chatter,  arid  sing — Bill  occa 
sionally  varying  the  amusement  with  an  inimitable  shak 
ing-fit,  as  if  the  ague  had  him. 

But  the  fun  was  getting  to  be  beyond  endurance,  and 
we  conceived  a  most  lively  prospect  that  we  were  ob 
taining  more  than  we  had  bargained  for.  The  moment 
had  arrived  when  we  must  storm  the  fort,  or  beat  a 
retreat. 

"  Gad !"  exclaimed  Bill  on  a  sudden,  "  did  you  ever 
know  such  cursed  weather  in  July  ?  We  must  have 
another  scuttle  of  coal." 

He  sprung  the  bell-cord,  and  Jerry  was  at  hand. 

"Another  scuttle  of  coal,  Jerry." 

Bill  snuffed  a  breath  of  fresh  air  as  the  door  closed  on 
the  retiring  servant,  and  the  next  moment  a  piece  of 
sealing-wax  was  simmering  on  the  top  of  the  stove. 

This  was  too  much  for  our  friend.  He  bounded  from 
the  cot  naked  to  the  buff,  as  wet  as  if  he  had  just  left  a 
shower-bath — and  commenced  such  a  tirade  as  I  never 
heard  before  or  since. 

"  Vot  you  do,  sare  ?  By  dam — you  have  break  my 
neck  short  off,  wis  zis  dam" 


HOW   WE    SMOKED    HIM    OUT.  155 

«  What's  the  matter,  sir?"  asked  Bill,  quietly. 

"Mattair?  —  JVb  mattair,  sare.  Zis  dam  shoke  me— 
wis  you  'Mericaine  segare  —  wot-you-call-em  —  dam 
shote-seex.  Begare,  you  have  squeeze  all  ze  bref  from 
my  hellish,  vot  you  call  stomach  !  Wot  you  for  do  zis  ' 


"  Don't  you  smoke  in  your  country  ?"  inquired  Bill, 
innocently. 

"  Wot  you  call  zat  shmokel  You  have  kill  me  dead 
—  one,  two,  tree  times,  wis  zis  dam—  pah!  —  I  .sal  be 
accomrnodait  bettair,  sair  —  I  sal  comeplain"  - 

"  Hadn't  you  better  go  to  a  hotel,  sir  ?" 

"Hottel!  Wot  you  call  zem  hot-  'el,  eh?  —  begair, 
sair,  you  find  one  hot  W/^wis  no  shmoke  in  him,  some 
fine  day  !  Sacre  !  I  sal  move  out  !  —  by  dam  !" 

With  this,  the  poor  fellow  commenced  dressing  and 
packing  his  duds  —  and  we  soon  afterwards  had  the  satis 
faction  of  seeing  him  making  his  way  down  stairs,  nearer 
dead  than  alive  —  most  vociferously  cursing  «  zem  dam 
Yankee  shote-seex!'  He  obtained  quarters  at  Holt's 
house,  near  by,  however,  and  we  were  satisfied  ;  having 
literally  smoked  the  forbidding-looking  biped  out  of  our 
premises. 

Shortly  after  midnight,  we  had  the  pleasure  of  ridding 
ourselves  of  the  intruder  ;  and  throwing  up  the  sashes, 
we  aired  the  apartment  as  best  we  could  —  the  rousing 
coal  fire  was  extinguished  —  the  cylinder  cooled  off  —  and 
though  we  half-smothered  ourselves  in  this  adventure, 
we  were  never  afterward  troubled  with  offensive  stran 
gers  in  <  ROOM  24.' 

G.  P.  B. 


CROSSING  THE  ALLEGHANIES. 

WHEN  we  crossed  the  Alleghany  Mountains  for  the 
first  time,  we  secured  an  outside  seat  upon  coach  <  No. 
301,  GOOD  INTENT  LINE.'  We  are  «  constitutionally  fee 
ble  ;'  and  constitutionally  feeble  folks  shouldn't  ride  on  the 
inside,  particularly  when  they  set  it  down  as  a  sure  thing 
that  the  coach  is  to  be  upset  ! 

The  night  was  dark  as  Erebus,  the  caps  of  the  ragged 
hills  loomed  up  in  the  distant  fog,  like  so  many  huge, 
grim  ghosts  en  dishabille  ,  the  drivers  generally  were 
cold  and  crusty,  and  stage  succeeded  stage  till  after 
midnight,  without  the  occurrence  of  anything  to  vary 
the  scene,  save  the  snoring  of  the  insiders,  or  the  oc 
casional  breaking  of  the  <  drag-block.' 

We  finally  exchanged  stages  at  Uniontown,  where  we 
took  a  new  driver,  one  of  the  veriest  <  Sammy  Wellers' 
we  ever  met,  a  quiet,  clever  fellow  —  half  Yorkshireman, 
half  Cockney  —  who  inclined  to  make  himself  '  agreeable' 
to  the  'gen'lman  as  'os  on  the  JDOX.'  We  passed  him 
our  cigar-case,  from  which  he  drew  a  regalia,  which  he 
lighted,  and  having  placed  it  in  a  comfortable  corner  of 
his  countenance,  he  took  up  the  ribbons  and  away  we 
went. 

"  Vest  —  cap'n  ?"  said  Sam. 


"Fur  vest?" 


CROSSING    THE    ALLEGH  ANTES.  157 

«  To  Cincinnati." 

"  Yees.  Sensinater's  kernsiderable  —  but  nothin'  to 
brag  on  !" 

"No!" 

"  No,  Sir.    York's  my  town  —  it's  the  place  —  is  York." 

"  New  York  is  a  driving  city." 

"  Drivin*  ?  Werry,  sir,  werry.  I  druv  a  cab  better'n 
four  year  there,  sir,  —  and  though  I  say  it,  as  shouldn't 
•  —  it  were  werry  few  as  could  beat  my  prad,  sir." 

"  Have  you  been  upon  this  road  long?" 

"  Oh,  bless  yer,  yees,  sir.  Come  Christmas  —  some 
sixteen  months,  an'  more." 

"  And  do  you  fancy  this  night-work  ?" 

"I  doesn't  mind  the  vork  —  only  fur  the  haxidents." 


"  The  haxidents,  sir." 

"What  accidents?" 

"  Lord  bless  your  hinnercence,  sir!  Then  you  haven't 
heard." 

"  Heard!  —  why  —  no  -  1  -  " 

"  O,  they're  werry  plenty,  sir!  It's  scarce  a  night 
but  sunthiri*  happens.  —  Hi,  Sal  !  —  That  long-tailed  'oo- 
man  on  the  lead  there,  sir,  's  orful  —  she  is.  She's  apt 
to  shy,  too,  summut." 

"  Have  a  care,  then,  driver  !" 

"  Oh,  never  fear,  sir." 

"  What  is  that  terrible  gulph,  yonder?" 

"Ah  —  that  arn't  nothin',  sir.     It's  only  the  Shades." 

"The  Shades?" 

"  Yees,  sir  —  ve  calls  that  'ere  the  Shades  o'  Death. 
Take  a  look,  sir?" 

"Don't  slop,  driver  —  go  on." 


158  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

«  Black  Sal,  sir,  's  werry  steady,  kinder,  to  night. 
Nice  old  'ooman  she's  gettin'.  Vy,  do  you  know,  sir, 
the  warmint  almost  oilers  vants  to  stop,  jest  yere  or  yere- 
abouts!  She's  a  rum  'un,  sir — is  Sal.  I've  seen  her 
dance  a  werry  hexcellent  'ornpipe,  yere,  sir.  But  she's 
gettin'  old,  sorter." 

«  I  have  no  taste  for  horses." 

"Wot,  sir — not  for  Bosses'?" 

"  No — driver — no." 

"  Sal's  an  ugly  cuss,  she  is — werry.  There,  sir! — . 
it's  jest  edzackly  as  I  said " 

The  team  here  came  to  a  full  stop — at  the  crown  of  a 
long  hill,  and  <  Sal'  commenced  her  gyrations — now  on 
her  haunches,  now  on  her  head,  now  up,  or  down,  twist 
ing  and  quirking  and  devilling,  until  she  broke  the  off- 
trace,  and  turning  completely  round  in  her  harness,  she 
looked  up  at  us  or  at  the  lights,  as  much  as  to  say,  <  how 
do  you  like  that,  stranger?' 

Matters  were  righted,  however — and  when  Sal  got 
ready  to  start,  the  pace  she  took  down  the  hill  was  cer 
tainly  a  caution  to  snails ! 

"  All  safe" — bawled  the  driver  as  we  reached  the 
bottom — "  'gafl>  si1*?  but  I  thought  she'd  land  us  that 
time — she's  done  it  twice." 

"  Done  what,  driver  ?" 

"  Upset  the  waggin,  sir!" 

"How?" 

«  Rolled  'em  into  the  Shades,  sir!" 
"  And  they  were,  killed  ?" 

«  Couldn't  say,  sir — righted  up  as  best  ve  could — and 
put  right  through." 

«•'  And  left  the  passengers?" 


THE    MARCH    OF    SCIENCE.  159 

«  0  yees. — Bless  yer,  how  yer  stare,  sir!  Ve  drive  tlie 
mail  line — ve  do — you  know,  sir." 

«  And  the  passengers  get  on  afterwards " 

"  As  best  they  can." 

« I  shall  stop  at  the  next  stage." 

"  Yes,  sir — yere  ve  are!" 

"  The  agent  must  refund  me  my  money.     I'll  not  go 
on " 

11  Ve  never  refunds  nutbin  yere,  sir — ve  don't Ve 

knows  about  all  kinds  o'  fun's,  'cept  refun' — ve  does" 
• — and  dashing  up  to  the  door,  we  found  ourselves  safe, 
so  far  ! 

G.  P.  B. 


THE  MARCH  OF  SCIENCE. 

A  RAW  specimen  of  the  rawest  kind  of  Yankee  arrived 
at  the  Franklin  House,  in  Philadelphia,  one  day  last 
week,  and  having  been  shown  to  an  apartment,  he  has 
tily  adjusted  his  outer  man,  and  made  his  appearance 
in  the  reception  room,  below.  He  walked  up  to  the 
office,  an<l  inquired  of  the  attendant  "whar  he  could  find 
A  doctor:'"  The  servant  referred  him  to  the  clerk. 

"  Wai,  nabur— Whar'll  I  git  a  doctor?" 

«  A  physician  ?" 

"  No-  -a  doctor." 

"  Be£  pardon,  sir — a  surgeon  you  mean,11 

"  No.  I  don't,  nuther.     I  mean  a  teooth  doctor.*' 

"  Ah  -a  dentist.     Yes," 


160  STRAY    SUBJECTS 

"Wai — I  do'  no'  wot  you  calls  'em,  yere — but  we 
calls  'em  teooth  doctors  down  our  way." 

"  Your  teeth  trouble  you,  eh  ?" 

«  Blast  it !  I  reckon  you'd  think  so — ef  you  had  it. 
'Taint  dun  nuthin*  but  jump  like  blazes,  fer  more'n  teu 
hours — an'  I'm  gwoin  to  hev  it  aout,  sure !" 

The  stranger  was  forthwith  directed  to  the  nearest 
dentist.  Arriving  at  the  hotel  door,  he  hailed  a  cab, 
and  gave  him  the  doctor's  address  (which  happened  to 
be  in  the  next  street  beyond !)  and  having  rode  some 
fifteen  minutes^  he  was  backed  up  in  front  of  the  door ! 
He  jumped  out— paid  his  «  four  levies' — jerked  the  bell- 
pull — and  wras  ushered  into  the  <  drawing'  room. 

During  the  operation  upon  a  customer  who  preceded 
him,  he  amused  himself  by  staring  at  the  pictures  upon 
the  walls,  or  in  handling  over  the  instruments — occasion 
ally  inquiring  "  what  this  was  fer  ?" — or  "what  the  man 
did  with  that?"  until  his  turn  arrived,  and  the  oper 
ator  requested  him  to  be  seated. 

"Whar?" 

•  *  Here,  sir — if  you  please." 

"  I  want  a  teooth  pulled." 

«  I  understand,  sir." 

«  Wai — s'pose  you  deu." 

"Be  seated,  sir — please." 

"  Oh,  yaas.  There — that's  the  feller,  thar"  continued 
the  Yankee — and  he  made  such  a  hole  in  his  face,  as 
safely  rendered  it  an  <  open  countenance  !'  The  opera 
tor  immediately  adjusted  his  forceps,  seized  the  molar, 
and  with  a  single  wrench,  placed  the  tooth  upon  the 
table. 

"  Hil-low  /   Ow  !"  shouted  the  Yankee-^"  wot'n  thui- 


THE   MARCH    OF    SCIENCE.  161 

der  are  yer  deuiu'  ?  Consarn  you  !  yer've  tore  a  feller's 
jaw  all  leu  smash  ! 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that — I  hope" 

"  Wai — it  dooz  feel  better,  fact1" 

"I  thought  it  would." 

"  By  gracious !  though — you  did  it  slick !" 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  serve  you  again" — added  the 
polite  doctor ! 

«  Wai— I  do'  no'  'bout  that.     Wot's  to  pay  ?" 

«  One  dollar." 

"One  what?" 

"A  dollar,  sir." 

"  A  dev 1  mean — that  is — 'od  fergive  me  for 

swarm'- — but,  Mister,  ain't  you  mistak'n  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  0,  git  aout !  you're  jokin' !" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Wai,  now,  luke  yere — stranger.  You  wusn't  long 
abaout  it." 

"  I  know  it,  sir" — 

"  And  a  dollar  for  less'n  a  minit's  work  ain't  'zackly 
deuin's  yeu'd  be  dun  by — swan  'taint !" 

"  A  dollar  is  my  price,  sir." 

«  A  dollar  !  Thunder  and  brickbats!  yeu  don't  mean 
it!" 

"  I  do,  indeed,  sir." 

u  \Val — ef  I  must — yere's  yer  money." 

«  Thank  you." 

"  I've  hed  a  teooth  pulled  afore." 

"  So  I  perceive — all  but  the  stump." 

"  And  it  tuk  the  doctor  moreen  an  hour  to  deu  it !" 

"Possible?" 


162  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  He  jes  bed  teu  drag  me  raound  the  room,  fore  an' 
aft,  twenty  times — and  when  he  lost  his  <  grip,'  he'd  take 
a'holt  agin  smarter'n  ever !  It  wus  the  reel  nat'rail  kind 
o'  labour"— 

"  Astonishing!" 

"  An'  he  didn't  charge  me  but  twenty-Jive  cents  /" 

"  He  was  very  reasonable." 

"  Wai,  Mr.  Dentiss — I  b'lieve  that's  yure  name  — 
which  way  is  it  teu  the  Franklin  House  ?" 

"  Directly  round  the  corner,  sir." 

«  Wharf 

"  Round  the  first  corner." 

"  Devil  it  is  !  Wy — I  gin  a  cab  feller  half-a-dollar  lo 
take  me  to  the  first  doctor's — and  he  rode  me  raound  a 
dozen  streets,  to  git  here!" — and  muttering  a  curse 
upon  toothaches,  dentists,  and  cab-drivers — he  repaired 
to  the  hotel,  brought  out  his  luggage  himself,  and  trudg 
ed  to  the  Western  cars — declaring  he  would  never  stop 
in  l  Feledelfy'  again  until  he  had  a  bigger  pile  of  £  tin' 
than  he  was  blessed  with  on  his  first  visit ! 

G.  P.  B. 


SELLING  "  JONAS"  AT  THE  TREMONT 
HOUSE. 

THE  BROWNS  and  the  SMITHS  have  much  to  answer 
for,  verily — and  it  would  need  a  heap  of  tears  to  blot 
out  the  record  of  their  short-comings!  Brown  alias 
Smith,  is  not  an  every-day  cognomen,  but  occasionally 
it  may  be  seen  in  print. 

Who  doesn't  know  friend  WHITCOMB,  of  the  Tremont 
House,  in  Boston  ?  Far  a-s  extends  the  fame  of  this 
popular  and  noted  Hotel,  so  far  is  <  JONAS'  known  for 
his  gentlemanly  character  and  uniform  civility.  But  in 
an  unlucky  moment,  lately,  despite  the  world- wide 
reputation  of  our  friend  for  his  far-sightedness — Jonas 
was  « picked  up !' 

All  the  <•  Job  Trotters'  are  not  dead  yet !  On  the  last 
Sunday  in  October,  Jonas  sat  cosily  enjoying  his  regalia 
after  dinner,  when  a  smooth-faced  individual,  with  a 
clean ^ white  neckerchief  about  his  throat,  entered  the 
1  office'  of  the  Tremont,  in  search  of  the  proprietor, 
Mr.  Tucker,  who  happened  to  be  absent  from  town. 
Mr.  Whitcomb  was  all  attention,  and  with  no  more  than 
his  customary  blandness  of  manner,  proffered  his  ser 
vices,  which  the  stranger  promptly  declined,  and,  with 
a  melancholy  sigh,  turned  to  depart. 

"  In  Mr.  Tucker's  absence,"  said  the  obliging  clerk, 
"  perhaps  I  might  answer." 

"  No  sir—  we  are  strangers." 


164  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"If  I  might  presume  to  inquire,"  gently  urged 
Jonas — — 

"No — no!  Mr.  Tucker  knows  me,  but  —  never 
mind,"  continued  the  stranger,  and  a  bandanna  passed 
over  his  handsome  countenance,  as  another  deep-drawn 
sigh  escaped  him! 

This  was  too  much  for  the  big  heart  of  the  gentle 
manly  book-keeper,  who  again  urged  the  stranger  to 
disclose  his  melancholy  business. 

"  Well,  sir,  if  I  must  expose  my  troubles,  I  know  ot 
no  one  more  worthy  of  my  confidence  than  Mr.  Whit- 
cornb.  I  believe  this  is  Mr.  Whitcomb  ?" — 

"  At  your  service,  sir." 

"  Of  whom  I  have  so  often  heard  my  good  friend  Mr. 
Tucker,  remark,  '  he  is  my  right  hand,  sir,  that  Whit- 
comb  !'  " 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  my  dear  sir?"  continued 
Jonas,  who  was  very  deeply  moved  by  this  friendly 
allusion. 

"  Oh,  nothing — that  is,  a  trifle,  sir, — a  mere  trifle  just 
now." 

"  I  have  lost" — and  big  tears  choked  the  sufferer's 
utterance.  "  Oh,  sir,  it  is  dreadful ;  but  I  have  just 
lost  my  poor,  dear  wife  !  She  expired  last  night — I 
cannot  see  my  employer,  to-day — and  a  coffin  must  be 
had.  I  shall  never" • 

"  Nay,  my  dear  sir! — give  yourself  no  uneasiness. 
How  much  will  suffice?"  asked  Jonas,  as  he  put  one 
hand  into  his  pocket,  and  with  the  other  wiped  away  a 
brace  of  tears  from  his  eyes  almost  as  big  as  walnuts! 

"Ten  dollars  will  be  ample,  sir." 

«  Here  it  is." 


BENEVOLENCE    REVVAADED.  165 

The  stranger  was  about  to  press  his  hand,  (though  just 
at  this  moment,  he  appeared  for  the  first  time  to  be  in  a 
hurry !)  but  Mr.  Whitcomb  needed  no  thanks. 

"No,  sir — no.  Go  and  bury  your  wife;  it's  all 
right,  sir, — don't  say  a  word,"  and  the  stranger  departed 
with  the  X. 

An  hour  afterwards,  Jonas  conversed  with  some 
friends — and  suddenly  <  smelt  a  rat!'  He  had  been 
sold  by  « Billy  Southack' — alias  Smith,  alias  Brown — 
for  a  ten-spot ! 

"  You  may  laugh,  gentlemen,"  observes  Mr.  Whit- 
comb,  soberly, — as  the  joke  is  repeated  in  the  house — 
"but  I  tell  you,  it  was  cheap,  at  the  price,  experience 
costs  something,  gentlemen.  Mr.  Brown,  or  Mr.  Smith, 
or  Mr.  Whoever-he-is,  is  welcome  to  the  money  ;  it  was 
worth  a  ten-spot  to  see  the  cuss  weep  /" 

G.  P.  B. 


BENEVOLENCE  REWARDED. 

THE  above  title  figures  very  conspicuously  in  children's 
picture-rbooks  and  playbills,  being,  in  the  former,  the 
infallible  precursor  of  a  tale  wherein  some  generous 
juvenile  who  has  given  away  his  pocket-money  to  a 
blind  beggar  receives  a  great  deal  more  money  than  he 
gave  away,  as  well  as  a  Noah's  ark  and  a  peg-top  from 
some  delighted  grandfather  or  doting  aunt.  And  on 
the  stage,  whenever  the  hero,  on  being  appealed  to  by  a 
very  tight-waisted  sailor  with  a  very  small  bundle  who 
comes  to  him  with  a  woful  tale  of  shipwreck,  places  a 
14 


166  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

purse  in  his  hands,  and  drawing  the  back  of  his  right 
hand  across  his  eyes,  says,  in  a  tone  of  plaintive  hoarse 
ness,  "there  —  that  is  the  fruit  of  a  life's  hard  labour, 
reserved  to  buy  yon  cottage,  where  I  live  ;  but  take  it ; 
it  is  yours;"  and  when  the  sailor,  after  asserting  that 'he 
can  never  take  the  last  plank  from  a  drowning  man, 
refers  to  his  organs  of  vision,  and  says  something  about 
his  <  pumps  being  set  a  going,'  winding  up  with  a  little 
profanity,  supposed  to  indicate  his  «  heart's  being  in  the 
right  place  :'  then,  we  say,  instead  of  the  sailor's  prov 
ing  an  impostor  and  the  charitable  hero's  ruining  him 
self  for  nothing,  either  the  sailor  turns  out  to  be  an 
admiral  and  an  uncle,  with  a  red  face,  knee-buckles, 
and  'plenty -of  shot  in  the  locker,' who  puts  his  long- 
unseen  nephew  to  the  test  preparatory  to  making  his 
fortune,  or  else  some  other  incredible  thing  happens  by 
which  c  benevolence'  is  {  rewarded,'  and  the  curtain  falls 
on  three  or  four  people  who  express  their  felicity  by 
bowing  in  a  very  stately  manner  with  their  hands  to  their 
hearts.  All  this  is  very  well  for  picture-books  and 
play-houses,  and  young  ladies  in  particular  may  shed 
tears  over  it  and  think  it  <  sweet  pretty ;'  but  in  actual 
life,  though  generosity  is  its  own  reward,  we  don't  think 
that  fortune  too  frequently  favours  the  benevolent.  By 
way  of  illustration  we  will  relate  the  following  fact. 

Two  or  three  years  ago,  on  the  eve  of  Thanksgiving,  a 
very  worthy  mechanic  purchased  a  lot  of  turkeys  of  a 
countryman  who  lived  at  a  great  distance  and  was  in  a  great 
hurry  to  get  home,  at  a  very  moderate  price.  He  might 
have  realized  a  very  handsome  profit  on  the  bargain,  but 
being  a  very  good-hearted  fellow,  he  thought  he  would 
dispose  of  thf?m  to  his  shopmates  at  the  same  price  he 


BENEVOLENCE    REWJKRUED.  167 

had  paid  himself,  viz  :  about  seven  cents  a  pound.  One 
would  have  thought  that  this  course  would  have  earned 
grateful  thanks  and  civilities  at  least.  Not  so — the  pur 
chasers  of  the  turkeys  being  a  mischievous  set  and  very 
fond  of  a  good  joke,  especially  at  other  people's  expense, 
laid  their  heads  together,  and  the  result  was  a  cruel  trick 
upon  their  benevolent  friend. 

On  the  morning  after  the  latter  had  sold  all  his  turkeys, 
one  of  the  purchasers  sought  him  out  with  a  small  par 
cel  in  his  hand. 

"  Come,  now,  Mr.  Sawpht,"  said  he  ;  "  you're  a  deep- 
one — ain't  ye  ?  I  thought  them  turkeys  was  amazin' 
cheap — seven  cents — but  if  turkey's  cheap  at  seven 
cents,  granite  screenings  ain't,  by  a  long  chalk !" 

«  Granite  screenings  /" 

"Yes — granite  screenings!  You  needn't  look  so 
mild  and  honest.  You  can't  come  it  over  this  individual. 
Look  a  here — confound  your  painted  picture." 

So  saying,  and  with  well-simulated  wrath,  the  spokes 
man  opened  his  bundle  and  produced  a  lot  of  heavy 
stones. 

"  There,"  said  he  ;  "  all  them  'ere  came  out  of  that 
'ere  turkey  which  I  bought  of  you  last  night,  you  miser 
able  sinner.  Ain't  you  'shamed  for  to  come  for  to  go 
for  to  play  offsich  a  trick  on  a  shopmate  ?" 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Sawpht,  aghast;  "  I 
didn't  know  anything  'bout  the  stones." 

"  Wai ;  you  believe  your  eyes,  don't  ye  ?" 

"  Of  course — of  course — and  I'll  heft  the  stones  and 
deduct — I'll  make  it  all  square  —  right  off.  But," 
added  the  mild  Mr.  Sawpht,  kindling  into  unwonted  pas 
sion,  u  ef  I  could  only  come  across  that  ere  VermomVr 


168  &RAY 


SUBJECTS. 


which  I  was  took  in  by,  if  I  wouldn't  spile  his  picter, 
bust  my  boots  and  gallowses  !" 

"  Hellow !  Sawpht !"  sung  out  half-a-dozen  voices 
altogether ;  «  You're  a  nice  man,  I  don't  think" — "  Pa- 
vin'  stones  has  riz,  hasn't  they  ?"  »  Ever  heered  of 
feedin'  turkeys  onto  rocks  ?"  £c.,  &c. 

And  half-a-dozen  turkeys,  containing  many  geologi 
cal  specimens,  were  thrust  into  the  very  face  and  eyes 
of  our  benevolent  friend. 

"Gentlemen!  gentlemen!"  roared  Mr.  Sawpht — • 
""  spar  me — spar  my  feelin's.  Jest  hear  me,  and  then 
strike  me,  if  you  can,  as  Themistocles  very  mildly  ob 
served  to  Richard  the  Third  at  the  Battle  of  Bunker 
Hill.  I'm  willin'  to  make  restitution !  Ef  /  was  took 
in,  you  shan't  be  no  how.  I  move  that  we  adjourn  to 
Bill  Stephen's  grocery,  whar  I'll  weigh  the  stones,  and 
refund  the  money." 

The  motion  was  carried  by  acclamation.  They  ad 
journed  to  Bill's,  and  there  our  unfortunate  friend  com 
menced  weighing  granite,  enlivening  his  occupation,  by 
sundry  invectives  directed  against  the  turkey- dealer. 
"  Tew  pounds — fourteen  cents — darn  his  ugly  picter  ! 
and  a  half — I  hain't  got  no  half  cent,  but  take  four. 
Seven  pounds!  consarn  his  soul!  Salvation!  what  a 
rock  that  was!  Two  thirty-seven,  sir!  Enough  to 
build  a  meeting-'us !  Ten  pounds — I'm  bust,  by  gravy !" 

As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  on  Thanksgiving  evening, 
the  mild  and  benevolent  Mr.  Sawpht  chanced,  in  a  pub 
lic  thoroughfare,  to  encounter  the  turkey-dealer,  whom 
some  unforeseen  occurrence  had  detained  in  Boston. 
Although  a  perfectly  sober  man,  Mr.  S.  became  instantly 
intoxicated  with  passion.  Not  to  amplify,  the  result 


"Oue  of  his  eyes  was  in  deep  mourning,  and  his  nose  (none  of  the  handsomest 
by  the  way)  was  quite  askew."—  Page  169. 


BENEVOLENCE    REWARDED.  169 

was  an  aggravated  assault  on  the  turkey-dealer,  who,  en 
raged  at  being  thus  wantonly  assailed  and  doubly  out 
raged  in  being  charged  with  fraud,  paid  back  with 
interest  the  blows  he  took.  After  performing  prodigies 
of  valour,  Mr.  Sawpht  was  captured  by  a  couple  of 
the  <  moon's  minions'  who  chanced  to  be  awake,  and 
passed  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  the  lock-up.  Ten 
hours  of  sleepless  agony  did  not  render  his  appearance 
very  prepossessing,  as  he  stood  up  at  the  bar  of  the  Po 
lice  Court  the  next  morning,  and  Mr.  Justice ,  who 

always  judged  a  man  by  his  looks,  not  only  fined  him 
five  dollars  and  costs  for  the  assault,  but  also  assured 
him  that  his  entrance  into  the  House  of  Correction  was 
probably  not  far  distant.  And  one  of  the  morning 
papers,  under  its  police  head,  gave  the  following  <  first- 
rate  notice'  of  our  friend: 

"POLICE  COURT. 

"  BEFORE    JUDGE  . 


"  Yesterday  morning,  an  ill-looking  fellow,  calling  him 
self  James  Sawpht,  evidently  just  recovered  from  a 
Thanksgiving  spree,  was  brought  up,  charged  by  a  Mr. 
Elphineas  Horrikins  of  Vermont,  with  an  unprovoked 
assault  upon  him  on  the  evening  of  the  day  previous. 
The  watchmen  were  witnesses  of  the  affray  and  testified 
strongly.  We  were  glad  to  see  that  Mr.  Horrikins 
marked  his  man  pretty  thoroughly  in  the  course  of  the 
skirmish.  One  of  his  eyes  was  in  deep  mourning,  and 
his  nose  (none  of  the  handsomest,  by  the  way)  was  quite 
askew.  The  fellow  talked  very  incoherently  about  tur 
keys,  the  result  probably  of  one  of  those  mental  delu 
sions  to  which  the  intemperate  are  so  subject,  as  we 


170  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

could  see  no  signs  of  any  '  turkey'  beyond  what  the  fel 
low  himself  had  on.  His  Honour  lectured  him  very 
severely  on  his  habits  and  on  his  offence,  and  mildly  re 
marked  that  he  should  impose  on  him  the  heaviest 
penalty  which  the  law  permitted,  and  he  hoped  sincerely 
he  would  remember  it  until  he  was  brought  up  again, 
which  he  assured  him  would  be  shortly,  for  some  yet 
more  heinous  misdemeanour,  when  it  would  give  him 
great  pleasure  to  save  society  from  his  dangerous  con 
tact,  and  to  save  him  from  himself,  by  assigning  him  a 
six  months'  residence  in  the  House  of  Correction.  The 
hardened  ruffian  seemed  to  listen  to  these  paternal  ad 
monitions  with  the  most  stoical  indifference,  but  they 
gave  great  satisfaction  to  the  two  watchmen  ;  and  a 
little  boy  who  was  awaiting  trial  in  a  case  of  aggravated 
wooden-comb  peddling,  was  melted  to  tears." 

We  shall  not  followT  Mr.  Sawpht  into  the  bosom  of  his 
afflicted  family,  but  lest  any  of  our  readers  should  think 
too  hardly  of  his  fellow-craftsmen,  we  will  add  that  the 
conspirators  in  this  case  finally  made  up  the  amount  of 
Mr.  Sawpht's  fine,  and  in  the  course  of  a  year  restored 
the  amount  of  which  they  had  defrauded  him  ;  but  to 
this  day  he  is  wholly  ignorant  of  their  treachery,  and 
only  wishes  he  "  could  have  one  more  lick  at  that  'ere 
turkey- dealer  where  there  warn't  no  watchmen." 

F.  A.  D. 


"DOING"  A  LANDLORD. 

IN  the  course  of  a  journey  Westward  some  years  ago 
we  chanced  to  be  witness  to  the  following  specimen  of 
nonchalance — which  we  set  down  as  one  of  the  coolest 
pieces  of  genteel  swindling  we  ever  encountered. 

A  biped  of  the  genus  <  sucker'  had  been  tarrying  for 
several  days  in  one  of  the  <  crack'  hotels  in  York  State, 
and  his  only  reply  to  the  third  weekly  bill  presented  by 
his  obsequious  and  obliging  host,  was,  that  <  he  lacked 
the  needful!'  He  had  been  lavish  in  his  style  of  living, 
and  his  bill  for  wines,  cigars,  and  accompaniments,  was 
by  no  means  an  inconsiderable  feature  in  the  account. 
The  young  «  gentleman'  was  in  his  room  with  a  trio  of 
boon  companions,  and  ringing  the  bell,  he  ordered  the 
champagne  and  fixin's  for  four.  The  servant  returned 
from  below  with  the  information  that  the  landlord  de 
clined  to  enlarge  his  indebtedness — accompanied  with  a 
hint  that  the  old  account  should  be  first  adjusted.  He 
immediately  waited  upon  the  landlord,  remonstrated 
with  him  touching  the  mortification  attendant  upon  being 
thus  shown  up  before  his  friends — the  wine  was  sent  up 
— the  party  frolicked,  and  finally  separated,  and  the  next 
morning,  after  breakfast,  the  following  scene  occurred. 

"  Mr.  "  said  the  polite  landlord — «  I  must 

now   insist   upon   the   immediate   adjustment   of  youi 
account." 

"  Can't  meet  it,  sir,  to-day,  really!" 

"And  why  not,  sir?" 


172  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

«  Haven't  the  tin  by  me,  sir." 

"  And  you  probably  woii't  have  ?" 

«  Probably  not,  sir,  at  present." 

"  When  do  you  propose  to  settle  it?" 

"  Couldn't  say,  sir,  'pon  my  honour.' 

"Have  you  the  slightest  idea  of  paying  it  at  all ?* 

"  I  confess,  sir,  the  prospect  is  exceedingly  dubious!" 

"Your  luggage" 

"Is  in  my  room,  sir." 

"  I  shall  detain  your  trunks,  then." 

"Do — if  you  please,  sir!" 

"  The  largest"— 

"  Is  filled  with  ivood,  sir  /'' 

"With  wood?" 

"  The  best  kind  of  Eastern  wood." 

"  And  the  other" 

"  Contains  the  same  article,  sawed  and  split!" 

"  And  your  wardrobe" • 

"Is  on  my  back,  sir." 

"Upon  my  word,  you  take  it  coolly." 

"  I  always  do,  landlord.  The  world  owes  me  a 
Jiving,  and  I  must  have  it." 

"  You  are  a  scoundrel,  sir." 

"I  know  it.  You,  sir,  are  a  gentleman,  and  I  am 
aware  that  I" 

Our  host  stopped  him — bit  his  lips — but  a  moment 
afterward,  turned  to  the  bar  and  placed  a  bottle  of  wine 
upon  the  side-table  near  by. — Having  filled  a  brace  of 
glasses,  he  handed  one  of  them  to  the  sucker,  and  the 
liquor  disappeared.  He  then  presented  him  a  vase  filled 
with  c  regalias.' 

"  Take  another" — said  the  landlord,  in  the  politest 


A    LANDLORD.  173 

possible  manner — "take  half-a-dozen,  sir,  there — -that 
will  do.  The  world  may  <•  owe  you  a  living,5  perhaps  it 
does.  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me,  however,  that  I 
have  paid  my  share  of  the  account.  I  have  in  my  day 
seen  a  good  deal  of  impudence,  and  my  calling  has 
brought  me  in  contact  \vith  a  great  variety  of  rascality  ; 
but  I  must  say,  without  intending,  however,  to  be  too 
personal  in  this  matter,  that,  without  exception,  you  are 
the  coolest  specimen  of  a  genuine  scamp  that  it  has  ever 
been  my  ill  luck  to  meet  with John  !" 

A  burly  servant  answered  this  summons. 

"  John — remove  this  fellow  to  the  street — and  if  you 
value  your  situation,  see  that  he  doesn't  return!" 

The  hint  was  enough — our  customer  didn't  wait  for 
further  demonstrations — but  immediately  decamped  to 
<  do'  some  other  host,  while  his  gentlemanly  landlord 
proceeded  to  examine  those  trunks,  the  contents  of  which, 
as  it  turned  out,  had  been  faithfully  described  ! 

G.  P.  B. 


HOW  THE  YANKEE  MADE  A  QUARTER. 

A  LARGE-MOUTHED,  raw-boned  Yankee  stood  upon  the 
side  of  T  Wharf,  one  day  this  fall — when  the  Eastern 
Steamboat  lines  were  at  the  height  of  their  competition, 
and  as  he  munched  a  hard-looking  'greening,'  he  seemed 
intently  interested  in  the  movements  of  the  throng  who 
were  rushing  over  the  gang-plank,  aboard  the  fine  steam 
er  C ,  bound  down  East. 

The  steam  was  well  up  upon  both  boats,  which  lay 
rolling,  and  backing,  and  filling,  from  the  action  of  the 
paddles,  at  the  dock,  but  the  steam  was  higher  «  up'  on 
the  landing,  among  the  <  runners' — who  were  urging 
customers  to  take  passage  each  upon  their  favourite 
craft. 

"  Oh,  she'll  bust  her  biler,  this  trip — sure" — remarked 
one  of  the  agents  aloud,  alluding  to  the  opposition. 

"  Wai — she  hain't  done  it  yit,  old  covey,"  said  the 
other — "  an'  yew  can't  say  so  much  o'  yure  tub,  any 
how.' 

"  Ware's  the  bote  as  gives  a  quarter  to  carry  folks  ?" 
inquired  a  woman  in  rusty  weeds. 

«  This  way,  mum." 

«  Well — there  ain't  no  danger,  you  say" — 

"  None  in  the  world,  mum,"  replied  the  agent — as  he 
passed  the  woman  aboard. 

«  But  I  hevn't  gut  the  quarter,  yit." 


HOW  THE  YANKEE  MADE  A  QUARTER.      175 

«  Beg  pardin,  mum" — and  the  accommodating  run 
ner  slipped  a  quarter  into  her  open  hand. 

"  It's  a  good  'un,  I  'spose  ?" 

"  Ginewine,  mum" — 

"  Wai — I  hain't  my  spe'tacles  by  me — but  ole  people 
is  so  likely  teu  be  imposed  upun." 

"  Thank'ee,  mum." 

"  An'  you  say  the  boat's  safe  ?" 

"  I  hevn't  the  soughest  dight  un  it,  mum" — and  the 
lady  disappeared  along  the  passage,  towards  the  cabin, 
stooping  very  low  to  avoid  a  crack  on  the  nob,  as  she 
passed  under  the  revolving  paddle-crank  which  was  at 
least  three  feet  above  her  height  any  how ! 

"  Afo'  /go  aboa'd — Mister  Wot's-yer-name" — bawl 
ed  our  Yankee  friend,  appearing  at  the  gangway — "  I'll 
take  that  quarter. — Thank'ee." 

<*  Pass  along,  sir." 

"  0  yaas,  I'll  pass  along  ; — but  thar's  wun  triflin' 
matter,  old  feller,  as  I'd  like  to  hev  reg'larly  understood, 
as  'tween  you  an'  I" — 

«  Wul,  sir." 

"  Ef  I  compr'end  the  contrac'  you  taiks  people  daown 
and  back,  and  gives  'ern  a  quarter  each  way!" 

"Very  well" 

"  Yes.  It's  all  very  well,  /  know — but  perhaps  yeu'd 
like  ter  git  this  child  daown  thar,  'n  then  let  him  git  back 
agin  as  may  be  'greeable  to  the  consarn,  hereabouts." 

"You  can  return  at  the  reg'lar  price." 

«  Thar  needn't  be  no  ewasion  o'  the  subjeck,  Mister 
Wot's-name.  You've  paid  me  the  wun  quarter  fer  goin' 
— but  I  duzzent  purceed  no  furder,  /  duzzent,  'nless  I'm 
skewered  agin  impersition !" 


176  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

*<  Wat  der  you  mean — you  chowder-head  ?" 

«  Wai,  leave  out  the  big  words,  cap'n — cos  I  reck'n 
you  can't  skeer  this  individooal,  much.  Thar's  the 
oppersishun  a  puffin  and  bloin',  yunder  — 'n  I  kin  go 
rite  strait  in  her,  'fthar's  army  dispute." 

"  Wull,  it'll  all  be  right,  my  good  man." 

"  Wai — I've  heern  tell  abaout  that — but  I  tell  you  I 
want  the  other  quarter,  afo'  we  start." 

"  Ml  ashore* 's  again''  /"  shouted  the  mate,  at  the  side, 
and  a  rush  of  spare  steam  burst  from  the  pipe,  as  the 
surplus  crowd  hurried  ashore. 

" 'od  ha'  massy!  Wot's  bust?"  cried  the  Yan 
kee,  as  he  joined  the  deserters. 

*<  Here!  you  blasted  fool" — bawled  the  agent. 

•*  No  yer  don't,  cap'n — I  hain't  but  the  wun  quarter, 
I  tell  yer — 'n  this  child  isn't  tew  be  tuk  in  by  no  sich 
frog-mouths  as  yew,  no  how" — and  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word,  he  gained  a  foothold  on  the  wharf  just  as 
the  plank  was  drawn  aboard. 

"  I'll  remember  you,  my  fine  fellow" — shouted  the 
agent. 

«  Dew,  'f  you  please,  nabur,"  returned  the  Yankee, 
and  raising  his  voice  to  a  higher  pitch}  as  the  steamer 
rounded  away,  he  added — "  And  I  say,  Mister — don't 
fergit  the  other  quarter,  on  the  comin'  back  !" 

G.  P.  B. 


AN  AMATEUR  PRESIDENT. 

AT  the  time  President  Polk  was  making  his  late  tour 
through  the  North,  I  chanced  to  get  on  board  the  steamer 
at  New  York,  which  was  bound  for  New  Haven — the 
route  selected  by  his  Excellency,  on  his  way  to  Boston. 

Upon  our  arrival  at  the  <  City  of  Elms,'  a  very  large 
concourse  of  people  had  assembled  upon  the  wharf 
where  we  were  to  land,  while  upon  the  opposite  side  of 
the  slip,  a  score  of  loafers  from  the  c  unwashed  democra 
cy'  had  got  together  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  a  live 
President.  The  boat  rounded  to  at  the  dock,  and  the 
Committee-men  on  board,  who  had  the  <  lion'  in  charge, 
in  their  anxiety  to  satisfy  the  sovereign  people  that  they 
belonged  to  the  show,  did  not  observe  the  crowd  who 
were  directly  ahead  of  the  boat,  as  she  neared  the  wharf 
— and  mistook  the  « handful  of  democrats'  who  stood 
on  the  left,  for  the  Reception  Committee. 

The  President  was  passed  up  to  the  rail,  where  he 
uncovered,  bowed,  and  waved  his  hat — but  the  bump 
kins  below  took  no  notice  of  the  gestures,  save  to  gape 
at  each  other,  as  if  they  would  like  to  know  what  all 
that  exertion  meant ! 

While  this  was  going  on,  a  brace  of  wags  w7ho  had 
observed  the  mistake,  seized  upon  an  acquaintance,  and 
passed  him  up  to  the  other  side  of  the  boat,  where  the 
real  Committee  were  in  waiting.  He  removed  his  cas 
tor,  politely — bowed,  and  smiled — and  the  Committee 


178  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

in  turn  raisecUheir  beavers,  bowed,  scraped,  looked  amia 
ble,  and  then  proposed  "  three  cheers  for  the  President!" 

A  shout  went  up  from  the  multitude,  which  startled 
the  Committee  on  board,  who  turned  about  and  at  once 
discovered  that  they  were  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  boat ! 

The  President  was  immediately  conducted  to  the 
opposite  side,  and  the  wags  retired — but  the  thing  was 
up !  The  Reception  Committee  had  re-covered  ;  they 
saw  the  <  gentleman  in  black' — but  it  was  no  go  ;  and 
with  a  glance  at  his  Excellency  and  attendants,  as  much 
as  to  say :  "  You  can't  come  none  of  your  nonsense  over 
us" — they  left  the  party  looking  over  the  side,  and  moved 
towards  the  gang-way  to  embrace  the  earliest  opportunity 
to  exhibit  their  allegiance  to  the  supposed  President, 
when  he  should  reappear  below  ! 

Our  friend,  not  dreaming  of  the  extent  to  which  his 
joke  had  been  carried,  stepped  upon  the  dock,  when,  at 
the  signal  by  the  head  Committee-man,  (who  "  knew 
Jimmy  Polk,  jes  like  a  book!")  another  shout  went  up 
for  the  President  of  the  United  States — and  the  officious 
gentlemen,  hats  in  hand,  insisted  upon  conducting  the 
wag  and  his  companions  to  a  carriage  in  waiting  for 
their  illustrious  guest  and  suite! 

The  innocent  joker  now  mistaking  the  chief  Committee- 
man  for  a  well-dressed  hotel  porter,  coolly  informed  him 
that  he  «  didn't  want  a  hack,  and  would  rather  walk." 
Meantime  the  clumsy  attache  had  managed  to  get  into 
position  again — the  President  appeared — the  joke  ran 
through  the  crowd — a  laugh  followed  it — "  three  times 
three"  for  the  President,  followed  that — His  Excellency 
entered  his  carriage,  and  the  stranger  with  his  friends 
disappeared  amidst  the  roar  of  the  multitude. 

G.  P.  13 


A  MODEL  OYSTER  SHOP. 

WE  have  a  word  to  say  about  oysters  ;  and  the  popu 
larity  of  the  subject  would  excuse  us,  if  we  were  twice 
as  tedious  as  we  mean  to  be.  Few  people  dislike  this 
luscious  shell-fish.  Aged  men  are  not  averse  to  oysters, 
and  <  children  cry  for  them'  just  as  they  are  supposed 
to  cry  for  Sherman's  Lozenges.  So  exquisite  is  the  de 
lectation  of  the  palate  in  the  consumption  of  this  fish, 
that  universal  opinion  seems  to  have  settled  as  a  primal 
condition  to  its  enjoyment,  that  oysters  must  be  eaten  in 
secret ;  that  no  noise  and  bustle,  and  garish  worldly 
display,  no  covetous,  or  even  unsyrnpathizing  eyes 
should  intrude  upon  the  oys:er-eater.  The  true  oyster- 
eater  is  a  modest  man.  There  are  beings,  destitute  of 
delicacy  or  refinement,  people  who  eat  for  the  mere  pur 
pose  of  satisfying  hunger,  who  eat  oysters  with  as  little 
responsibility  as  they  would  clams  or  potatoes.  Such 
fellows  can  gorge  themselves  at  a  stall  in  the  open  street, 
in  the  presence  of  a  multitude,  and  wonder  why  men  of 
finer  mould  require  deep  alcoves  and  silken  curtains, 
and  soft  carpets,  that  give  back  no  echo  to  the  tread. 
They  would  be  lost  at  Florence's — dismayed,  perplexed. 

It  was  our  chance  lately,  when  we  had  let  our  usual 
dinner-hour  slip  by  unheeded,  to  find  ourselves  in  a  re 
mote  quarter  of  the  city,  with  a  certain  internal  {  remind 
er,'  as  Mr.  Richard  Swiveller  said,  of  the  wants  of  human 
nature.  Hard  by  rose  a  neat  <  ten-footer,'  with  a  gor 
geous  sign  over  the  door,  whereon  was  emblazoned  the 


180  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

attractive  and  talismanic  word  <  OYSTERS.'  Vari-  us 
little  hints  and  professions  were  uttered  by  squares  of 
paper  pasted  in  the  window-panes — such  as  <  stewed,' 
<  roasted,'  <  fresh  from  the  shell,'  &c.  Being  somewhat 
hungry,  we  entered  rapidly,  and  rashly  ordered  an  oys 
ter-stew  upon  the  threshold.  The  proprietor  of  the 
establishment,  a  thinnish  man,  with  no  hair  or  eyebrows, 
and  eyelashes  of  the  colour  of  faded  gingerbread,  prepared 
to  comply  with  the  demand,  while  we  cast  a  hurried 
glance  around  us.  We  saw  that  we  had  been  entrapped. 
The  room  was  bare  and  dismal,  with  a  sanded  floor. 
There  was  no  alcove,  no  curtains,  and  but  one  table,  a 
little  slab,  rather  than  a  table,  covered  with  green  oil 
cloth  ;  and  the  stool  beside  it  was  so  shrivelled  up  and 
meagre,  that  it  appeared  to  threaten  impalement  to  any 
one  who  should  intrust  it  with  his  person.  The  oyster- 
man  relieved  the  tedium  of  preparation,  by  asking  a 
great  many  questions  relative  to  his  operation  :  demand 
ing  to  know  whether  he  had  put  in  milk  enough,  if  he 
shouldn't  add  a  leetle  grain  more  butter,  parenthetically 
stating  that  butter  had  <  riz,'  but  generously  adding  that 
the  fact  made  no  sort  of  odds ;  and  all  as  if  we  were 
bound  to  act  as  cook,  and  superintend  our  own  meal. 
At  length  the  oysters  were  placed  before  us,  accompanied 
by  a  dropsical  greenish  bottle,  the  inner  sides  of  which 
were  covered  with  thick  patches  of  tomato  ketchup,  that 
clung  like  leeches  to  the  glass  ;  a  loaferish  tin  pepper 
box,  that  had  been  in  a  good  many  hard  fights,  and  got 
its  head  knocked  out  of  shape,  so  that  standing  with  its 
handle  akimbo,  and  its  perforated  top  flattened  and 
bent,  it  had  the  most  rakish  air  imaginable  ;  and  a  small 
plate  containing  some  fossil  remains  of  a  petrified  cab- 


-  \\       ,._ 

"He  remarked  :   'Oysters  don't  look  numerous  in  a  big  bowl.'  " — Page  181. 


A    MODEL    OYSTER    SHOP.  181 

bage  stump  steeped  in  cider,  intended  to  represent  cold 
slaw.  The  oyster-man,  after  setting  down  the  bowl,  sat 
himself  down  on  a  rickety  chair  hard  by,  and  nodding 
familiarly  at  us,  said  in  a  cheerful  tone  of  encourage 
ment,  "Now,  then,  go  to  work!"  Observing  us  to 
grope  hopelessly  about  for  an  oyster,  the  half-dozen  that 
were  in  the  mess  being  so  attenuated  as  to  elude  all  the 
scoops  of  the  iron  spoon,  he  remarked :  "  Oysters  don't 
look  numerous  in  a  big  bowl."  Apologizing  for  the 
tenuity  of  one  we  finally  succeeded  in  entrapping,  he 
added,  that  "  cooking  oysters  allers  srunk  'em  up,"  and 
had  the  hardihood  to  assert  that  the  one  in  question  was 
"  as  big  as  his  hand  when  it  came  out  of  the  shell." 
We  swallowed  his  impertinence  and  his  oysters,  in  dis 
gust  :  and  never  was  a  ninepence  more  reluctantly  paid, 
or  more  inadequately  deserved,  than  that  we  left  upon 
his  counter.  We  shook  the  sand  of  that  shop  from  our 
feet,  as  we^emerged  into  the  street,  and  we  mentally 
resolved  to  draw  its  likeness,  as  the  antipodes  of  all  it 
ought  to  be,  and  to  show  it  up  as  a  warning  to  all  men 
who  might  be  tempted  to  go  into  the  oyster  business, 
without  taste  for  their  craft,  or  consciences  for  their 
customers. 

F.  A.  D. 


THE  GREAT  WESTERN  PIE-EATER. 

AWAY  down  in  £  Coony  Hollow,' — you  know  where 
C/oo-ny  Hollow  is  — it  is  the  valley  through  which  flows 
the  famous  «  Salt  River,'  so  well  known  among  politicians. 

Well,  away  down  in  Coony  Hollow,  long  time  ago 
— there  lived  as  worthy  a  landlord  as  ever  put  carver 
into  a  mutton  haunch — liberal  to  a  fault  was  he — kind, 
generous,  hospitable  ;  but  he  was  unfortunate  in  having 
thrust  upon  him,  in  an  evil  hour,  a  <  boarder,'  who  had 
well  nigh  devoured  him  of  his  substance. 

He  was  a  good-hearted  man,  was  this  landlord — 
obliging  and  friendly — and  for  the  world,  he  could  not 
personally  offend  any  one !  His  <  boarder'  had  a  tape 
worm,  poor  fellow !  he  couldn't  help  it- — but  such  an 
EATER  !  Well  might  he  fix  upon  the  West  (where 
provisions  were  plenty)  for  his  abiding-place  !  He  w-as 
known  for  fifty  miles  the  country  round,  as  the  <  great 
pie-eater!' 

We  stopped  (a  '  nice  party'  of  us)  at  this  hotel, 
where  we  observed  the  disgusting  voracity  of  this  man, 
and  heard  the  meek  landlord  remark,  "  It's  orful,  gentle 
men,  orful — such  gormandizing!"  We  proposed  to 
our  worthy  host  a  plan  to  rid  him  of  the  monster. 

"No,  gentlemen,  it  can't  be  done.  Everybody  is 
acquainted  with  him  ;  he  has  '  eaten  out'  the  best  half 
of  the  town  ;  the  rest  know  him.  It's  no  use !" 

"  Leave  that  to  me,"  said  the  most  knowin''  'un  of 

182 


THE  GREAT  WESTERN  PIE- EATER.        183 

the  party  ;  and  it  was  resolved  that  it  should  be  <  tried 
on.'  In  the  event  of  failure  to  start  the  glutton,  we 
were  to  pay  the  expenses ;  if  our  plan  succeeded,  the 
landlord  was  to  foot  the  bill,  and  «  stand  treat.7 

It  wTas  Thanksgiving  Day.  A  sumptuous  dinner  was 
served,  and  the  roast  turkeys  and  accompaniments  were 
<  numerous'  on  the  occasion.  It  was  agreed  that  an 
enormous  pumpkin  pie  should  be  built,  in  a  huge  earth 
en  platter,  and  when  the  monster  called  for  pie,  it  was 
to  be  placed  before  him  with  a  ladle  !  His  custom  was 
to  devour  three  or  four  ordinary  pies,  after  dining,  every 
day,  and  we  believed  this  hint  would  drive  the  animal 
out. 

Seats  for  five  at  table  opposite  the  proposed  victim, 
were  turned  down  for  our  party,  and  everything  passed 
along  just  as  we  would  have  it.  The  pie-eater  gorged 
himself  with  sundry  turkeys  and  fixin's,  and  called  for 
pie.  The  table  was  cleared  for  a  considerable  space  in 
front  of  him,  and  Edward,  the  waiter,  placed  before  him 
the  platter  (two  feet  in  diameter),  filled  with  pumpkin 
and  pastry.  A  large  spoon  was  handed  him — his  eyes 
dilated — his  mouth  watered — his  cheeks  glowed — but  at 
it  he  went,  and  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  the  crowd, 
he  bolted  the  entire  contents,  concluding  by  carefully 
licking  the  spoon ! 

«  Edward  !"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  breath, 
"bring  me  another  pie,  Edward!"  and  the  servant 
turned  to  the  side-table,  and  handed  our  friend  an  ordi 
nary  pie. 

"  Oh,  that  ain't  no  manner  o'  use,"  said  the  glutton  ; 
«  bring  me  another  o'  the  big  'uns  /" 

"All  gone,  sir '"  said  Edward  ;  and  as  the  '  boarder' 


184  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

thrust  the  pie  into  his  mouth  with  a  sigh  of  disappoint 
ment,  the  party  left  the  dining-hall ! 

The  bill  was  paid,  and  shortly  afterward  we  were  on 
our  way  down  the  river — our  known*  friend's  face 
elongated  full  <  a  feet !' 

I  never  see  Thanksgiving  Day,  when  I  do  not  think 
of  that  voracious  PUMPKIN  PIE-EATER  ! 

G.  P.  B. 


"  SAWING"  AN  INSPECTOR. 

IN  one  of  our  maritime  ports  of  entry,  a  few  years 
back,  on  the  accession  of  a  new  administration,  a  very 
verdant  youth  from  the  interior  presented  himself  at  the 
Custom  House  in  Boston,  and  was  duly  sworn  and  pos 
sessed  of  his  commission  as  '  Inspector  of  the  Customs 
for  the  port  of  Boston,'  and  was  also  duly  impressed  with 
all  the  importance  and  gravity  of  his  new  duties.  As 
he  seemed  a  very  promising  subject,  a  wag  of  a  brother- 
inspector,  who  had  received  an  intimation  that  his  services 
would  shortly  be  dispensed  with  by  the  Government, 
and  who  was  intrusted  with  the  indoctrination  of  the 
more  fortunate  individual,  resolved  to  revive  in  his  be 
half  all  the  <  old  saws'  time-honoured  tradition  had 
handed  down,  and  apply  them  to  <  this  modern  instance.' 
He  first  imparted  some  general  instruction,  and  <  put  him 
through'  the  duties  of  attending  to  the  discharge  of  one 
or  two  foreign  vessels. 

At  length  the  awful  period  arrived  when  the  infant 
Inspector,  emancipated  from  his  leading-strings,  was  to 


186 

go  alone.  That  the  duties  of  his  berth  might  gradually 
dawn  upon  him,  a  vessel  from  Nova  Scotia,  laden  with 
plaster  (a  free  article),  was  assigned  to  his  charge, 
and  a  <  permit'  given  him  to  land  <  100  tons  plaster 
from  the  Bouncing  Sally.'  He  showed  it  to  his  tutor 
with  a  smile. 

"That's  easy  done,"  said  he,  "  ain't  it?  Plaster's 
free." 

The  old  rat  shook  his  head  mournfully.  "  Not  so 
easy  as  you  imagine  it.  Do  you  understand  geometry  ?" 

«  Yes — some — I  went  through  it  to  the  academy — 
but  that  was  a  darned  long  while  back,"  said  the  victim. 

"  Fourpence  for  the  oath,"  said  the  Mentor  sternly. 
The  coin  was  instantly  paid,  and  found  its  way  to  the 
pocket  of  the  tormentor.  "  Now,"  continued  he, 
"  you've  got  to  ascertain,  by  actual  measurement,  the 
cubic  contents  of  each  piece  of  plaster  in  that — what 
description  of  a  vessel  is  it  ?" 

«  It's  a  slupe  /" 

"Ah!  a  sloop;  very  good.  You  had  better  go  to 
work  immediately." 

The  victim  immediately  hastened  to  the  pier,  and  the 
crew  commenced  discharging.  A  huge  cube  of  plaster 
was  first  landed  on  the  wharf.  This  looked  promising. 
Our  Euclid  measured  the  sides  and  calculated  the  con 
tents  of  the  cube.  But  while  thus  engaged,  another 
and  another  piece  of  plaster  tumbled  out,  all  of  the  most 
complicated  figures. 

«  Hold  on,  there  !"  yelled  the  victim — "  I've  got  my 
hands  full  for  tu  days.  Them  eternal  rhomboids  and 
parallelepipeds  are  enough  to  drive  a  human  bein'  ravin' 
raad.  I  know  I  can't  du  it,  by  gravy !  I  never  studied 


186  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

conic  sections,  and  I'm  sure  it's  somewhere  there,  or 
'taint  nowhere.  Hold  on  !"  he  screamed,  as  the  crew 
continued  to  work,  "  or  else't  I'll  report  you  right  away, 
and  have  ye  took  up  and  fined  five  hundred  dollars 
each!  I  kin  do  it,  and  I  will  do  it,  by  gravy !" 

With  this  resolution,  he  was  rushing  away  to  report 
the  ill-fated  stupe,  when  he  encountered  his  tormentor, 
who  offered  to  take  the  job  off  his  hands,  and  get  at  the 
amount  by  general  average  (!)  by  a  process  of  his  own 
which  he  could  not  impart. 

On  another  occasion,  soon  after,  when  in  charge  of 
another  vessel,  the  tormentor  sauntered  down  to  the 
wharf  to  see  how  his  victim  got  along  with  it,  when  he 
observed  that  the  steward  was  a  coloured  man. 

"You've  got  a  nigger  steward,"  observed  he  care 
lessly. 

"Wai,  I  know  I  hev — what  of  it?"  answered  the 
victim,  rather  tartly,  for  he  was  beginning  to  <  feel  his 
oats.' 

"Oh!  nothing — only  you  must  look  out  for  him," 
was  the  reply. 

«  Oh!  he  hain't  got  nothin'.  I've  searched  his  bag 
gage,  and  in  fact  the  whole  vessel.  All's  right — he 
hain't  got  nothin'." 

"  But  his  wool  /"  said  the  tormentor,  in  a  low  hoarse 
whisper. 

«  Well — what  of  thatl"  asked  the  victim,  terribly 
afraid  of  being  convicted  of  some  remissness  in  the  dis 
charge  of  his  duty. 

"It  pays  a  duty  of  seven  cents  a  pound." 

*«  Wai — I  thought  that  'ere  come  under  the  head  of 
<  necessaries  of  life.'  " 


"  SAWING"  AN  INSPECTOR.  187 

"  You  are  not  aware  that  these  niggers  drive  a  great 
trade  of  smuggling  their  wool  ashore,  are  you  ?" 

"  No,  I  wasn't,"  said  the  novice,  turning  deadly  pale,, 

"  Did  you  never  notice,"  continued  the  tormentor, 
calmly,  "that  almost  all  these  foreign  blacks,  a  day  or 
two  after  arriving  in  port,  have  their  heads  tied  up  in 
bandanna  handkerchiefs  ?" 

The  novice  had  noticed  this  fact,  but  had  drawn  no 
inference  important  to  the  revenue  department. 

"  They  watch  a  chance,  when  the  Inspector's  back 
is  turned,  to  whip  up  to  the  barber's  and  have  their  heads 
shaved.  The  bandannas  are  afterwards  used  to  conceal 
the  fraud  upon  the  government.  I  may  be  deceived  in 
this  man — but  he  looks  suspicious  ; — he  looks  to  me  like 
a  smuggler,  and  I  advise  you  to  watch  him  very  closely. 
There's  no  way  of  your  getting  at  the  quantity  mathe-- 
matically,  is  there  ?" 

"  None  as  I  knows  of;  but  I'll  consult  the  books  to 
night." 

"  I  don't  think  you'll  find  it  there,"  said  the  torment 
or,  as  he  sauntered  away. 

From  that  moment  the  steward  was  an  object  of  intense 
anxiety  to  the  unfortunate  novice.  He  never  permitted 
him  out  of  his  sight,  and  whenever  he  went  ashore,  he 
was  sure  to  dog  his  footsteps.  When  he  had  missed 
sight  of  him  for  a  few  minutes,  and  he  happened  to  come 
back  with  his  hat  on,  the  novice  would  assail  him  with — 

"  'Pears  to  me  that's  an  odd  notion  of  yourn,  wearing 
a  hat  in  the  cabin  sech  a  scaldin'  day  as  this.  I  wish 
you  would  take  it  off— it  makes  me  nervous." 

"  Berry  good,  massa — jess  as  you  say ;"  and  the  co 
vering  would  be  removed.  All  right. 


188  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

Once,  when  the  steward  was  taking  a  nap  in  his  chair, 
our  Inspector  stealthily  approached  him  and  began  to 
feel  his  head  all  over. 

"Why,  the  critter's  got  more'n  a  pound! — 'Tain't 
much  for  the  government  to  lose — but  the  principle's 
everything.  I  should  be  a  perjured  raskil  if  I  didn't 
hold  him  to  account  for  every  ounce  of  it." 

"  Golly,  massa!  what  you  want !"  shouted  the  African, 
jumping  out  of  his  doze  and  his  chair  at  the  same  time. 

"  Nothin1 — nothin' — jest  you  go  to  sleep  agin.  I'm 
a  phrenologist — that's  all.  The  critter's  guilty  conscience 
haunts  him  like  a  rattle-snake!"  he  added  to  himself. 

One  day  matters  came  to  a  climax.  The  steward, 
after  passing  his  hands  through  his  wool  several  times, 
said  with  the  greatest  effrontery : — 

"  Well,  Massa  Spectre,  I  bliebe  I  must  leab  you  to 
yourself  for  half  a  hour." 

"  Where  are  you  going?" 

"To  de  barber's,  massa." 

«  WThatfor?" 

"  To  hab  my  hair  cut." 

"No  you  don't,  you  rascal.  That  'ere  wool  ain't  en 
tered  yet" 

"  Not  entered  !  -  Wat  you  mean,  massa  ?" 

"  Not  paid  for,  you  limb  of  Satan  ! 

•"  Paid  for!      Goramity  gib  'um  to  me." 

"  Silence !  you  infatuated  Day  and  Martin !  Set 
right  down  in  that  'ere  chair,  and  I'll  do  your  bar- 
berinV 

The  nigger  sank  speechless  into  the  captain's  arm 
chair.  In  an  instant  ne  was  tied  fast,  hand  and  foot, 
and  the  Inspector  seized  a  case  of  razors  from  the  cabin- 
table. 


189 

«  Murder!  murder!  you  goin'  to  cut  a  nigga's  troat, 
eh  ?" 

"  I'll  cut  a  nigger's  head  off,  if  he  don't  keep  still," 
was  the  stern  reply. 

In  five  minutes  the  skull  of  the  unfortunate  African 
was  as  bare  of  wool  as  a  cocoa-nut  denuded  of  its  hairy 
bark.  It  was  even  grubbed  up  by  the  roots,  for  the 
razor  had  been  used  for  opening  oysters  and  paring  po 
tatoes. 

"Now  take  your  bandanna,  if  you  like,"  said  the 
green  'un. 

Leaving  the  steward  shrieking  with  pain  and  rage,  the 
official  rushed  to  the  custom-house  in  triumph  with  his 
booty.  But  alas!  he  was  received  with  roars  of  deri 
sion.  The  next  day  he  sent  in  his  resignation, — and 
the  department  lost  a  valuable  officer,  whose  only  fault 
was  that  he  knew  too  much. 

F.  A.  D. 


MR.  FAULTY'S  FIRST  AND  LAST  CLUB 
SUPPER. 

MR.  FRANCIS  FAULTY  had  been  <  about'  some,  and 
Mr.  Faulty  was  invited  by  his  'friend'  Mr.  Flash,  to  a 
Club  supper,  one  night. 

At  early  ten  o'clock,  on  the  evening  appointed,  Messrs. 
Flash  and  Faulty  were  formally  ushered  into  the  Club- 
room,  where  were  already  collected  together  some  score 
of  worthies,  whose  talents  and  ambition  were  fully  equal 
to  those  of  Mr.  Flash  and  Mr  Cheatem,  (the  latter  being 
another  <  friend'  of  the  first-named  gentleman.) 

"  Ah,  gents" — roared  the  former  as  they  entered— 
11  just  in  time  ;  gentlemen,  allow  me  to  present  my  friend 
Flash,  and  his  friend,  Mr.  Faulty— 

Our  hero  looked  uncommonly  wise,  and  having  made 
a  low  bow,  he  seated  himself  modestly  in  a  remote  cor 
ner  of  the  room,  and  amused  himself  most  unweariedly 
for  the  next  five  minutes,  in  his  endeavours  to  determine 
satisfactorily  whether,  in  such  a  situation  as  this,  his  hat 
should  rest  upon  his  right  or  his  left  knee. 

The  strangers  laughed  outright,  at  length — Frank 
laughed  louder  than  anybody  else,  the  signal  was  given, 
and  the  party  repaired  to  the  supper- room.  As  they 
were  about  to  sit  down,  Mr.  Cheatem  proposed  that 
officers  be  chosen  to  preside  pro  tempore. 

Flash  was  duly  elected  President,  and  Faulty  was 
complimented  with  authority  to  <  do  the  honours'  as 
Vice.  The  company  were  at  length  seated,  and  the 
second  course  disappeared  as  rapidly  as  the  first. 


191 

"  Mr.  Faulty"  —  remarked  the  president  —  "  the 
pleasure  of  a  glass  of  wine  with  you." 

"  Sir,  your  most" — replied  the  vice. 

Frank  thought  it  his  turn  shortly  after,  and  according 
ly  reciprocated  the  compliment. 

"Mr.  Vice" — said  Cheatem—  "  allow  me  the  plea 
sure." 

"Most  certainly" — replied  Frank — "my  respects." 

The  champagne  circulated,  and  by  the  time  he  had 
emptied  his  sixth  goblet,  Frank  had  got  to  be  very  vo 
luble,  and  not  very  witty — while  Mr.  Flash  appeared 
vice  versa. 

But  the  wine  went  round,  and  our  hero,  determined 
that  his  neighbours  shouldn't  get  ahead  of  him,  continu 
ed  to  «  see  the  bottom'  of  his  glass — until  it  was  a  mat 
ter  of  considerable  doubt  with  him  whether  there  were 
any  bottom  to  it,  or  whether  there  were  not  two  glasses 
before  him  instead  of  one ! 

"A  sentiment  from  the  vice-president" — shouted 
Mr.  Cheatem. 

"Ay!"  followed  a  dozen  voices — "  Mr.  Faulty's 
toast — a  toast  from  Mr.  Faulty." 

"  Fill,  gentlemen,  to  the  brim,  for  the  sentiment  of 
the  vice-president" — said  Flash. 

"  Ay,  a  bumper  for  the  vice-president !"  continued 
Cheatem. 

"  Order,"  said  the  president — and  in  the  midst  of  a 
^breathless  silence,  Mr.  Faulty  attempted  to  rise. 

<•<•  I'll  give  you" — said  Frank,  clinging  to  the  table, 
to  maintain  his  equilibrium — "  I'll  give  you — Mr.  Presi 
dent  and  gen'lemen — a  pair  of  sparklin'  black  eyes '* 

"  Bravo,  bravo !"  shouted  the  company. 


192  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  Order!"  cried  the  president. 

" ma)  they — may  they  never  ;" here  Frank 

took  his  seat  again,  amidst  the  deafening  plaudits  of  the 
whole  table,  and  the  vice-president's  toast,  <  a  pair  of 
sparkling  black  eyes — may  they  never' — was  drunk  with 
most  enthusiastic  approbation ! 

«  Three  cheers  for  the  vice-president's  toast!"  shout 
ed  Cheatem. 

"Hoora!  Hoorah!  Hoo-r-aw!"  and  then  followed  a 
stamping,  and  shouting,  and  clapping,  which  might  have 
awakened  the  neighbourhood  for  half-a-mile  round. 

The  president  begged  to  be  excused  a  moment. 

If  Frank  'saw  double'  before  he  now  began  to  see 
triple,  and  what  with  his  attempts  at  gratuitous  singing 
and  speechifying,  he  managed  to  make  himself  appeal 
exceedingly  ridiculous. 

In  the  temporary  absence  of  the  president,  Mr.  Cheat- 
em  proposed  that  the  then  existing  'vice'  be  removed, 
and  that  some  other  be  chosen  to  represent  that 
office,  as,  from  some  cause  or  other,  he  was  very  evi 
dently  incapacitated  for  the  duties.  A  third  person, 
who  had  taken  a  dislike  to  Frank  at  the  outset,  requested 
Mr.  Cheatem  to  waive  his  motion  so  far  as  to  admit  an 
amendment.  This  worthy  proposed,  instead  of  remov 
ing  the  present  incumbent,  to  act  upon  the  feasibility 
of  laying  him  under  the  table — to  wrhich  Mr.  Cheatem 
kindly  consented,  and  the  motion  was  immediately  sup 
ported  !  Frank  rose  with 

*»  Gen'lmen.       In  the    absence  of 'ic — worthy 

friend,  Mr.  Flash — being  president — act  upon  'ic  ques 
tion — momentous — his  advice 'ic." 

«  Question,  question !"  roared  the  company. 


MR.  FAULTY 's  FIRST  AND  LAST  CLUB  SUPPER.   193 

"  Your  vice-president,  gen'lemen-— ic — hie — feels  the 
honour— conferring  on  him.  Un'stan's  the  du — 'ic — 

duties   of  his   office  —  dictation   no   part   o'    the 

'jc •>•> 

"Question,  question,  question!" 

« 's  very  well,  gen'lemen.  If  it  be  your  'ic 

minds — s'moved  gen'lemen — and  the  prop-ic-er-sitiori 
is  s'ported,  that  your  respectable  vice-president  belaid — 
'ic — under  the  table — for  what  reason — 'od  only  knows, 
'ic.  But  'f  that  be  your  mind — s'gentlemen,  you'll 
please  to  be  so  kind  as  to  manifest  it,  by  saying  ay — 
'fu  please,  Jic." 

"Ay,  ay!"  shouted  the  company. 

"  'S  unanimous!"  said  Frank;  and  under  the  table 
he  went,  muttering  as  he  laid  himself  upon  the  floor, 
"  this  i  'swat  I  call — 'ic — cum-fer-ta-ble !" 

Flash  returned  to  his  post,  after  ordering  a  coach,  a 
new  'vice'  was  chosen,  and  the  company  continued  to 
revel  on  in  the  most  uproarious  state  possible  for  the  next 
hour. 

Meantime,  the  brain  of  Faulty  whirled  round  and 
round,  while  a  mingled  chaos  of  black  eyes,  lemon 
punch  and  broken  glasses  were  revolving  through  his 
mind.  At  length  he  fancied  himself  passing  round 
Point  Judith  in  a  thunder-storm — after  which,  he  was 
much  better,  and  fell  asleep. 

The  party  having  drunk  all  the  wine  the  landlord 
thought  fit  to  furnish  them  with,  and  having  broken  up 
all  the  glasses  upon  the  tables — at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning  broke  up  themselves ;  and  the  few  who 
chanced  to  keep  out  of  the  watch-house,  retired  to  their 
respective  homes. 


194  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

Among  the  latter  were  our  hero  and  his  two  compan 
ions  ;  who,  having  gathered  Frank  up  from  beneath  the 
table,  placed  him  with  themselves  in  a  carriage,  and 
drove  at  once  to  their  lodgings. 

G.  P.  B. 


HOW  HE  SOLD  'EM. 

A  "WISE  SAW"  AND  "MODERN  INSTANCE." 

WITH    AN    EXCELLENT    MORAL. 

THE  events  we  are  about  to  narrate,  transpired  several 
years  since,  in  a  great  commercial  city,  that  boasted  of  a 
noble  custom  house.  A  great  political  revolution  had 
just  been  consummated,  and  the  guillotine  was  busy  at 
the  public  offices  carrying  out  the  noble  republican  prin 
ciple  of  £  rotation  in  office,'  to  the  infinite  satisfaction  of 
the  new  dynasty  and  the  infinite  dissatisfaction  of  its 
opponents.  Of  course,  it  was  impossible  to  please 
everybody.  As  fast  as  a  vacancy  was  created  it  was 
filled,  just  as  on  a  hard-fought  battle-field  the  void 
caused  by  the  fall  of  a  soldier  is  instantly  filled  up  by  a 
comrade,  and  the  column  moves  on  the  same  as  ever. 
There  were,  however,  considerably  more  than  ninety- 
nine  in  a  hundred  of  disappointed  office-seekers.  Among 
the  fortunate  was  a  very  clever  individual  of  Scotch  ex 
traction,  whom  we  shall  call  McGregor,  as  a  nom  de 
guerre,  who,  from  his  immense  personal  popularity, 
secured,  on  the  score  of  his  appointment,  a  host  of  gra- 


HOW    HE    SOLD    JEM.  195 

tulations  from  his  troops  of  friends.  But  the  envy  that 
pursues  all  merit  did  not  spare  poor  Mac.  Among  his 
self-styled  friends  there  was  scarcely  one  who  did  not 
wish  him  out  of  the  way  for  the  sake  of  having  a  vacancy 
created.  They  used  to  watch  his  health  with  tireless 
solicitude,  and  he  could  not  sneeze  or  cough  without 
giving  rise  to  a  thousand  hopes.  He  was  incessantly 
surrounded  by  a  cluster  of  these  'friends,'  and  he  racked 
his  brains  in  his  endeavour  to  find  some  method  of  get 
ting  rid  of  them. 

At  length  one  day  he  came  upon  a  party  of  them 
when  he  was  looking  much  more  poorly  than  usual. 

"  Hullo,  Mac !  how  are  you  ?" 

"  Not  very  well,  thank  you,"  coughed  Mac  in  a 
piteous  key.  "  I  never  felt  so  slim  in  all  my  life." 

"Poor fellow!"  chorussed  the  entire  circle — "Hadn't 
ought  to  be  out."  "Go  to  bed."  "Send  for  a  ho- 
nuEopathist."  "  No — no — try  the  water  cure" — "  sul 
phur  and  molasses!"  "steam,"  "  calomel,"  — "  glass 
of  brandy!"  "mint  julep." 

Mac  smiled — a  wan — sad  smile,  and  shook  his  head. 
He  beckoned  a  friend — a  particular  friend,  his  'halved 
heart,'  out  of  the  group,  and  walked  away  with  him. 

"  Topps,"  said  he,  "  I'm  afraid  I'm  going  to  make  a 
die  of  it.  I'm  going  to  «  create  a  vacancy.' ' 

"  Don't  say  so — you  shock  me  beyond  expression!" 

"  It's  a  melancholy  fact,"  said  Mac.  "  Topps — I've 
made  my  will — it  isn't  a  very  long  one — for  I've  had  au 
expensive  family.  I  wish  I  could  provide  for  them. 
Now,  Topps — you  stand  the  best  chance  of  getting  my 
place — you  might  do  something  for  me." 

"  Anything  in  the  world,  dear  Mac." 


196  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  Well — then — step  up  with  me  to  the  Life  Insurance 
office — and  'advance  me  the  money  to  pay  for  a  policy 
on  five  thousand  dollars  for  five  years.  I'll  leave  a  letter 
recommending  you  to  the  head  of  our  department — 
you'll  be  sure  to  get  the  place,  Topps." 

Topps  gave  in  to  the  proposal,  and  Mac  walked  briskly 
into  the  Insurance  office.  Even  Topps  was  surprised  at 
the  sudden  change  in  his  appearance.  He  didn't  look 
ill  at  all. 

"  What  an  actor  you  are,  Mac!"  said  he. 

The  insurance  effected,  Mac  felt  easier,  went  home, 
and  took  to  his  bed.  There  were  a  thousand  inquiries 
made  daily  at  his  house,  and  the  intelligence  received 
was  of  the  most  encouraging  character  to  the  hopes  of 
the  office-seekers.  Topps  lived  in  Elysium.  One  night, 
learning  that  Mac  was  near  his  end,  he  benevolently 
offered  to  watch  with  him.  It  w^ould  have  been  an 
interesting  sight  to  have  observed  the  movements  of  that 
Topps  in  the  sick  chamber  when  he  was  left  alone  with 
the  sufferer— how  comfortably  he  established  himself  in 
the  easy  chair — how  luxuriously  he  stretched  his  legs 
upon  a  lounge  —  how  exquisitely  voluptuous,  in  short, 
was  his  whole  appearance  and  arrangements. 

"  Topps,"  said  the  sick  man  in  an  expiring  voice, 
11  Heaven  will  reward  you  for  your  kindness  to  me. 
When  I'm  gone— 

"  Don't  talk  of  it,  Mac." 

"  When  I'm  gone — see  that  they  bury  me  decently. 
The  Odd  Fellows  will  do  their  part — but  I  want  the 
military  out — my  old  corps — the  Shot-Gun  Invincibles 
— speak  to  the  commander — tell  him — I  want — a  volley 
over  the  grave." 


HOW    HE    SOLD    'EM.  197 

«  It  shall  be  done,  dear  Mac.  But  are  you  really 
going?" 

"I'm  going,"  said  Mac,  solemnly. 

«  Shan't  I  call  your  wife  ?" 

«  No  —  no  —  poor  woman  —  she  is  worn  out  with 
watching — it  would  kill  her.  I  may  linger  through  the 
night — but  these  are  perhaps  the  last  words  I  shall  ever 
speak." 

Topps  looked  at  the  sufferer — he  held  a  candle  to  his 
lips — the  flame  but  slightly  wavered. 

"He's  a  goner!"  he  exclaimed  exultingly,  as  he 
threw  himself  into  the  arm-chair  to  muse  upon  his  glo 
rious  prospects. 

«  Topps !"  squealed  the  invalid  with  difficulty — "  it's 
twelve  o'clock — the — the  soothing  mixture." 

"It's  no  go,  old  fellow,"  said  Topps  unfeelingly. 
"  Confound  me !  if  I  stir  from  this  chair  this  night,  any 
how.  If  you  don't  like  it — you  may  lump  it." 

A  heavy  sigh  was  the  only  answer.  Topps  fell  asleep 
and  slept  like  a  dozen  of  his  namesakes.  In  the  morn 
ing,  the  sick  man  was  still  alive,  but  the  family  physician 
had  no  hopes  of  him.  Topps  took  leave,  to  prepare  his 
recommendations  and  papers,  having  first  secured  the 
promised  letter  of  his  unfortunate  friend,  and  made  suie 
of  obtaining  the  office  to  be  vacated. 

The  next  day  Topps  and  the  other  aspirants  were  as 
sembled  in  high  conclave,  to  compare  notes,  and  specu 
late  on  their  chances.  When  Topps  produced  the 
dying  recommendation  of  his  friend,  a  roar  of  dissatis 
faction  rose  among  the  office-seekers.  It  was  pro 
nounced  an  underhanded  affair,  and  a  young  man  in 
mixed  pantaloons  and  mustaches  said  : 


198  STRAY    SUBJECTS. 

"  No  gentleman  would  be  guilty  of  such  a  piece  of 
meanness." 

«  Do  you  mean  to  apply  that  remark  to  me,  sir?"  in 
quired  Topps. 

"There  is  no  other  individual  in  this  room  to  whom  it 
does  apply,"  replied  the  owner  of  the  mustache.  "And 
[  most  distinctly  and  emphatically  assert,  that  you, 
Bernard  Topps,  are  no  gentleman." 

A  blow  from  Topps  was  the  rejoinder.  Mustache 
hit  back.  The  betting  was  even.  Spectators  took  sides ; 
and  a  general  row7  was  in  progress,  when  the  door  opened 
— and  in  walked  Mac  ! 

«  Good  morning,  gentlemen." 

"Mac  alive  and  out!"  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Pre-cise-ly,"  was  the  answer.  "  My  foot  is  on  my 
native  heath,  and  my  name  is  Macgregor!  Gentlemen, 
for  your  kind  solicitude  about  my  health,  I  thank  you. 
Topps !  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  kick  you — but  for 
that  insurance  policy.  Boy !  if  I  should  die  to-morrow, 
my  family  would  thank  you  for  being  independent." 

The  united  faces  of  the  company  would  have  reached 
a  mile.  They  bolted — mizzled,  flew,  vamosed.  All 
except  Topps  —  he  crawled  away — literally  crawled  ; 
bent  nearly  double,  with  his  coat  tail  hanging  down 
between  his  legs,  like  the  caudal  appendage  of  a  casti 
gated  spaniel.  We  never  could  find  out  what  be 
came  of  him,  and  he  is  supposed  to  have  been  entirely 
<  used  up.' 

As  for  McGregor,  he  flourished  finely  for  three  or 
four  years,  but  at  the  expiration  of  that  time,  w7as  sud 
denly  taken  ill  of  a  typhus  fever  and  died — before  his 
policy  of  insurance  had  expired,  however,  so  that  his 


now  in-:  SOLD   'I:M.  199 

family  was  left  comfortably  off.  He  had  a  grand  fune 
ral.  The  various  societies  of  which  he  was  a  member, 
arid  who  sincerely  mourned  the  loss  of  an  excellent  man, 
w:ere  out  on  the  melancholy  occasion,  with  full  ranks, 
while  the  <  Shot- Gun  Invincibles'  numbered  eighty-seven 
pieces.  Neither  Topps  nor  his  cronies  wrere  among 
the  mourners. 

F.  A.  D. 


THE  END. 


WITH  ILLITSTRATKWS  BY  BARLEY.  ffo\ 

—       KleoaiJ    Illuminated  Cmvi'tf.  Published  by 

T.  B. PETEBSON  &  BROTHERS. 

MAJOR   JONES'S   COURTSHIP. 

DRAMA   IN  POKERVILLE. 

CHARCOAL  SKETCHES.     DEER  STALKERS. 

MISFORTUNES  OF   PETER    FABER. 

MAJOR  JONES'S  SKETCHES  OF  TRAVEL. 

YANKEE  AMONGST  THE  MERMAIDS. 

STREAKS  OF   SQUATTER    LIFE. 

QUARTER   RACE   IN  KENTUCKY. 

SIMON  SUGGS. 

WESTERN  SCENES,  OR  LIFE  ON  THE  PRAIRIE 

YANKEE   YARNS    AND  YANKEE  LETTERS. 

MYSTERIES    OF  THE  BACKWOODS. 

BIG  BEAR  OF  ARKANSAS. 

ADVENTURES  OF  PERCIYAL  MAYBERRY. 

THE  QUORNDON    HOUNDS. 

MY   SHOOTING    BOX. 

MAJOR  JONES'S  CHRONICLES  OF  PINEVILLE.! 
STRAY  SUBJECTS  ARRESTED  AND  BOUND  OVER. 

ADVENTURES    OF   FUDGE    FUMBLE. 

ADVENTURES  OF  CAPTAIN,  FARRAGO. 
PICKINGS  FROM  THE  PICAYUNE. 
MAJOR  O'RECAN'S  ADVENTURES. 
PETER  PLODDY.    FOLLOWING  THE  DRUM. 
WIDOW  RUGBY'S  HUSBAND. 

SOL  SMITHS  THEATRICAL  APPRENTICESHIP. 

SOL  SMITH'S  THEATRICAL  JOURNEY  WORK. 
POLLY  PEABLOSSOM'S    WEDDING. 
WARWICK  WOODLANDS. 
LOUISIANA  SWAMP  DOCTOR. 
AUNT  PATTY'S  SCRAP  BAG. 

NEW    ORLEANS    SKETCH    BOOK. 


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